Back For Good
by skag trendy
Summary: Happy birthday to Sendintheclowns. Dean tells Sam to leave. He didn’t expect his little brother to take him seriously… AU set post IMTOD.
1. Chapter 1

**Back For Good.**

**Happy birthday to Sendintheclowns.**

_**AU Post IMTOD – not really sure if it's even after ELAC. I'll let the birthday girl decide!**_

_**Dean tells Sam to leave.**_

_**He didn't expect his little brother to take him seriously… **_

_**Authors Notes: **__This AU explores what might have happened if Dean told his brother to leave after their father's death._

_Not to imply that Sam is stupid or a wimp, as you'll soon learn. Justifiably insecure may be. Also assumes that a certain demon from season 1 puts in an earlier appearance than Born Under A Bad Sign. Either way you interpret it: please remember folks; this __**is**__ an AU._

_**Warning: Use of bad language, excessive force, drugs, violence and torture.**_

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Sam watched his brother mournfully from the kitchen window. Dean hadn't spoken to him in days apart from the odd grunt each morning. He might as well have been speaking Caveman for all Sam knew. Giving up on any heavy subjects, such as their dead father, or the missing Colt, Sam even tried small talk, but it always came across as loaded. Frankly, he was getting tired of the scowls and eyes that narrowed in suspicion every time Sam so much as opened his mouth. Nevertheless, Sam refused to give up on him.

_Loved his brother too damn much to give in._

He finished preparing the sandwich and pulled a cold beer out of the cooler, took a deep fortifying breath, then pushed open the screen door.

Sam approached cautiously then gently cleared his throat to get Dean's attention without startling him. His older brother was already sporting a slight bruise on his forehead from the last time Sam came out here without warning him. Movement under the Impala stilled as though Dean were waiting for Sam to explain what he was doing there. And that was part of the problem; Sam felt like he had to ask permission to be within a hundred feet of his brother.

"I brought you some lunch….uh….and a beer."

A gruff noise that almost sounded like 'thanks' before more metallic clunking indicated Dean had carried on.

Sam bit his bottom lip, well aware he was skating on thin ice.

"Uh…let me know if you want another one…I'll bring it right out…no trouble if ya still hungry..." He trailed off when Dean suddenly pushed himself out from underneath the car and glared at him obnoxiously.

Sam blinked back at his brother, then lowered his chin to glance at the ground. "Dean…please don't shut me out." he began softly. "Can we talk about this?"

"What the hell for?" Came the blunt answer. "I don't need to talk and I certainly don't need to talk to you." Quizzical green eyes narrowed as they studied Sam's face. "Why are you even still here?" Dean didn't sound mad at him, more curious.

Sam's head shot up in painful shock and he almost stumbled back. "Wh-what?"

"Seriously." Dean grabbed the beer and chugged back a few mouthfuls before continuing. "You planned to go back to school, right? I had to let you go and all that? Well here's your chance."

"Dad wouldn't wan…" But Sam didn't get the chance to finish.

"Cut the crap Sam! Since when did you give a damn about what Dad wanted?" _Now _he sounded mad. Dean smirked when he added cruelly "Just go. You don't wanna be here, and I sure as hell don't want you around." Without stopping to take note of Sam's sharp intake of breath, he disappeared back under the car.

Sam stood there at a loss, eyes wide with hurt. It wasn't until his stomach started churning dangerously that he was staggering back inside the house. He didn't even get time to shut the bathroom door before he crashed to his knees in front of the basin, and vomited so harshly he could swear his colon would shoot round the u-bend. The worst over, Sam splashed his face with water and swilled his mouth out before staring at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and his skin seemed grey and sunken. He was trying so hard to take care of his brother, fixing him lunch and preparing dinner when Bobby was out on an errand, but Sam clearly wasn't taking very good care of himself, and he was slowly losing all will to survive.

This was it, however. That last push.

Sam had no idea how long he sat on the toilet lid trying to compose himself. It seemed like an eternity but when he emerged the sun was still high in the sky. His left leg jiggled nervously as he considered his options; he didn't want to leave his brother, but the anger in Dean's eyes had clearly spelled it out: Sam was no longer welcome in his brother's life.

_Welcome..._

Trouble was Sam couldn't go back to Stanford now even if he wanted to. There were too many memories there, some of them sweet, others more than a little bitter.

With no solid plan in mind, Sam headed to the bedroom and packed up his meagre belongings. Taking one final look round, he left a note for Bobby in the kitchen, simply thanking him for letting him stay and briefly wondered about leaving Dean a letter. He figured Dean probably wouldn't even read it, but Sam owed him something.

_Owed him everything..._

Sam desperately wanted to say goodbye in person, but it was just too hard. He couldn't face his brother now so he left the house, silently slipped out the yard gates, and didn't dare look back.

But while he could fool his mind that this was for the best - _for Dean's sake – _his heart was having some trouble with it.

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Dean waited until he heard Sam retreat back to the house before levering himself out and taking a bite of the sandwich, surprised at just how hungry he was. Washing it down with another mouthful of beer Dean reflected on his harsh words. Guilt assaulted him without mercy but he refused to let it get to him; plain fact was he was sick of Sam's mollycoddling.

He was just sick of his little brother in general right now.

_You ok Dean?_

_You wanna talk Dean?_

_You wanna beer?_

_You want me to help out with the car?_

_No, no, no and no._

Well, maybe a _yes_ to the beer, but that was it. It just wasn't Dean's way, talking things through. Shutting the fuck up and getting on with it was his usual MO; it sure had worked for him in the past and he wasn't changing his ways this late in the game.

Sam had always been a walking mixed bag of emotions, and Dean didn't doubt his brother's heart was in the right place. As a child Sam had lived in constant fear of losing his family and even now that hadn't changed. But as a teenager that fear had morphed into something else, and Sam had been so _angry_, questioning everything about their father's decisions, generally driving Dean and John up the wall. It was impossible to predict the Sammy climate at any given time, the emotional roller coaster one long wild ride with no tracks and no end in sight. His seemingly childish petulance often led to blazing row after blazing row, and Dean was always there to shield his little brother from the heat. But there had always been that _fear_, the driving force behind Sam Winchester and his in-built concern for his family. Even his decision to leave the hunt for higher education hadn't been entirely selfish, Dean acknowledged reluctantly. By the age of eighteen, Sam had been on enough hunts and seen enough injuries to last a lifetime and he couldn't take it anymore; he couldn't stand by and watch his father and brother die, couldn't live a life he so hated. So after one last blazing row, Sam had left Dean to singe in the heat of their father's wrath.

And now John Winchester was dead, his life probably given in trade for Dean's, and Dean was having his own trouble dealing with it. Sam's solution to talk it out wasn't viable and in reality Dean wasn't sure he was even ready to deal with the fallout from _that _particular discussion.

_That_ was the last thing he needed right now.

It didn't occur to him to ask what his little brother might need.

He shrugged, turned on the radio not really listening to the news broadcast.

_...reports say that a serial killer from the 1970s is once again on the rampage, popped up from nowhere . He had once been likened to Jack The Ripper in his viciousness, the notorious serial killer of the White Chapel murders in London during the late 1800s... experts say that he's changed his MO, and is now targeting men and the individuals are taken...tortured and slaughtered. In each case, the victim is finally butchered in front of the family before the murderer kills them all and makes his escape...._

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Sam trudged along dejectedly, duffle bag over his shoulder. He'd checked his cell phone several times in the last hour in hopes that he might've missed Dean's call, asking him to come back. But the damn thing remained frustratingly silent and Sam was tempted to just throw it away.

He had no idea where he was going, at times could barely see. Dust, just dust getting in his eyes making them water. Maybe he'd just hitchhike around for a few months until he decided what to do with himself, or get a job in some sleazy run down bar someplace, where they wouldn't care about little things like his real name or social security number. At least he wouldn't have to bother disappearing; it wasn't as though Dean would come looking for him now.

A low rumble reached his ears and he turned to see an old Ford Mustang cresting the hill behind him. He shielded his eyes against the glaring sun and watched as the car slowed to a crawl then stopped beside him.

"Need a ride kid?" The driver smiled up at him with twinkling slate blue eyes. His voice seemed friendly enough, but an odd shiver ran down Sam's back. It was nothing he could put his finger on but for some reason he just wasn't sure about this guy.

"Uh…" On the other hand, it wasn't far off sunset and he had miles to go before he reached the nearest motel, not to mention that he really didn't trust his instincts all that well these days. He cursed his indecision. _Damnit,_ he could take care of himself for Christ sake; he'd just have to chance it and keep a close eye on this guy. First sign of trouble and Sam was out of there, moving car or not. So he heard himself answering "Sure, that would be a real help."

Maybe it was time to stop caring about it. He had nothing left anyhow.

He climbed into the front passenger seat and shoved his duffle through into the back.

"Where you headed?"

Sam paused before answering. "The next motel for now if that's ok?"

"Drifter huh?" Before Sam could answer the guy extended a hand. "The name's Richard."

Sam hesitated then accepted the handshake, immediately regretting it as that shiver went up and down his spine a little more insistently.

_Maybe this wasn't such a good idea..._

_But I'm desperate right now._

…_stop being a pussy and introduce yaself!_

"I'm Sam. Nice to meet you." Sam lied through his teeth in response. Something about this guy...

"So…_Sammy!_ Your brother finally get sick of the sight of ya huh?"

Sam flinched in his seat, fumbling for the door handle, but several loud clunks indicated that the car was now well and truly locked down. Sam was trapped.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded furiously.

The guy turned, his eyes flashing black as beetles and hissed at Sam. "Hell? Funny you should say that sweetie." The flash of a syringe and needle caught Sam's angry gaze, before the demon lunged across the seat, pinning Sam against the passenger door. "'Cos that's exactly where you're headed."

Sam tried to fight him off but the bastard's strength was astounding. The needle slid into his neck and he soon felt a burning warmth spread through him as muscles relaxed against his will. Sam blinked sluggishly and tried to raise a hand to his neck but his limbs were heavy as lead. His head thunked painfully against the passenger doorframe, breathing dangerously slowed, and his sightless eyes stared out the windshield.

As darkness descended the last thing Sam felt was the car moving off.

_I really didn't think this through properly…_

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Bobby tipped the peak of his cap against the sun and sighed. He was so godamned tired and almost dreaded heading back to the yard. The atmosphere between the brothers had been strained at best and downright hostile at worse. Much more of their bullshit and he was seriously considering banging their stubborn heads together.

He was just too old for this crap. If Dean and Sam didn't start talking soon Bobby was certain they'd destroy each other. Sam was already wilting inside, barely eating or sleeping; only an idiot would fail to notice. And his older brother was certainly doing a good impression of an idiot right now, feigning blissful ignorance and drowning in denial that something was very wrong.

Bobby carried on grumbling to himself as the truck ate up the miles, wondering when he'd turned into such a fussy old woman. Maybe he'd always been that way but hadn't realised it...

He couldn't help but admire the old red Mustang that was sitting at the side of the road just ahead, and his expert eye ran over the sleek lines before he realised the guy sitting slumped and pale in the passenger seat looked worryingly familiar. Bobby sat up straighter when the car pulled away with a screech of tyres, heading in the opposite direction.

_What in God's name is Sam__ doing all the way out here? And in some stranger's car no less!_

He thought about turning round and following but the car was already a high speed blot in the distance. No way could his old truck keep up with it. Instead, he grabbed a pen from the glove compartment and scribbled down the licence plate number. Bobby pulled out his cell phone, hit speed dial, and when Dean finally answered Bobby let rip.

"_What the hell did you say to that kid?!"_

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Dean shimmied out from beneath the Impala when he heard his cell phone going off like a Claymore. Flipping it open and placing it to his ear, he didn't make it passed the first syllable before an angry voice bellowed down the line.

"Whoa! Hold on Bobby, what's all the yellin'? What did I say to who?"

"_Sam of course! Who else?"_

Dean stumbled around this a little. "Uh, what makes you think…?" He didn't get a chance to finish.

"'_Cos I've just seen your brother in some guy's car, and at a guess I'd say he aint there by choice!"_

Dean felt a cold pit open up inside him as he headed over to the house.

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Sam felt sick to his stomach when he eventually woke up and slowly raised his head, and he was having some considerable trouble remembering how he'd wound up with a monster hangover because he _sure _didn't remember getting drunk. It sort of took the fun out of it. Opening his eyes didn't help either because it was just as dark as when they were closed. But this, he quickly realised, was because he was blindfolded. He moaned softly as his head pounded and his mouth felt as though it were stuff with dirty cotton. Which it was. He'd been gagged.

_Ohhh, that's just perfect._

Now that his remaining senses were coming back on line, he understood that he'd been tightly tied to a chair, his arms secured behind him and the ropes were cutting into his skin, but most worrying of all he was no longer wearing a shirt.

Freezing, _ice_ cold water suddenly drenched him from overhead and he shook and shivered in his tight bindings. He let out another soft moan, breathing heavily through his nose.

"Welcome back Sam. Glad you could join me; it's been too long."

It was in that instant that Sam figured out whom, or rather _what_ his captor was.

_Meg._

_Not the best news I've had all day..._

He could almost feel the bitch (or was it bastard given that she was possessing a _guy_ this time?) grinning smugly.

"I can tell that sharp and pretty head of yours has figured it out."

_So you read minds on top of everything else? How about this: go fu..._

"Such language Sammy. You disappoint me. You've obviously spent way too much time around that foul mouthed brother of yours."

He felt a weight on his lap, realised he was being straddled and tried to struggle away but he was bound way too tightly. Something cold and metallic was slowly drawn down his bare chest and he tried not to flinch or tense up with pain as liquid warmth spilled down his body and soaked through the waistband of his jeans.

"I couldn't believe my luck when you willingly left the sanctity of the salvage yard. I've been waiting for an opportunity, seeing as you guys upped the protection symbols round the place. I had no idea you guys were so..._resourceful. _Of course, Dean was the one I hoped for but you'll do nicely. For now."

Sam gave out a muffled whimper as the blade scored deeper into the epidermis and deeper _still_. He tried to breathe through the pain and gather his wits, but Meg wouldn't give him a chance; she was enjoying herself way too much. The knife went dangerously deep this time and he tried not to cry out, but it was useless. _He was useless._

"Don't worry Sam. I don't intend to kill you right away." Sam shuddered at the feel of a hot tongue on his body, licking away at the blood. "I hope to draw out the fun for a long, _long_ time, and then maybe I'll invite your darling brother along for dessert. _If he cares enough to come rescue your sorry ass._"

The blade sliced into his upper arms before being dragged across his shoulders. The sickly sweet smell of copper invaded Sam's nostrils, and he knew he was already losing too much blood. But he wasn't going to beg. If it was the last thing he did, Sam would make his brother proud of him this one last time, so he remained quiet behind the foul tasting cloth lodged between his teeth, only letting loose the odd grunt of pain. But when the bitch spoke again fear curdled in his stomache.

"And once I've finished with you and your brother? Maybe Bobby Singer's next."

It finally registered with Sam just how bad this was and he tried to scream and threaten her if she ever went anywhere near his brother, but she just _laughed_ at him.

"Sorry gorgeous. Didn't quite catch that..."

Sam felt the gag ripped down but before he could speak, a mouth clamped down hard on his and a tongue began forcing its way between his lips. He tried to move his head but it was held in an iron grip as she plundered his mouth. Biting down hard on that dry, reptilian tongue made no difference. A horrible thought occurred to him as the demon attempted to wind its tongue round his vocal chords; judging by the deep voice, Meg was _still_ possessing a guy. Right? A guy. So...

_I'm being kissed by a guy!_

If Sam ever made it out of here alive, Dean would never let him live it down. Trying to push the notion away, he struggled helplessly but Meg wasn't letting him go, and he could barely breathe as she deepened the kiss; he felt like vomiting when she started moaning with pleasure, sucking and licking her way into his mouth. There was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it; he tested his bonds again, hoping that he'd managed to loosen them somehow, but no such luck. The ropes seemed to tighten with each movement in fact, and if he wasn't careful he'd end up cutting off the circulation to his arms. So he mentally shrugged and tried to reason that there were worse things than being tonsil-hockeyed to death by a demon.

It was just that right now, he couldn't think of a single one....

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Dean, still not quite believing it, kept the cell phone to his ear and headed for the house, picking up the pace the closer he got.

The kitchen door thumped against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster.

"Sam? Sam!" Dean barked out. "You here?" When he received no answer, he lowered the phone and began a man hunt. _Where the hell is he?_

His movements became frantic as he searched each room with still no sign of his little brother. He searched the bathroom, closets, airing cupboard and even checked under the kitchen sink, stupid as that was. Nothing. Trying to calm his fear Dean went back to the bedroom and noticed this time round that Sam's belongings had gone.

_Nonononono....how could he leave me __**again**_?

Staring at the empty space where his brother's duffle used to reside next to the furthest bed, he tried to think. All the while he heard Bobby Singer faintly ranting in his hand and shoved the cell back in his ear.

"He's gone. He packed up and left." Dean's voice was cold and emotionless but his heart pounded with guilt. _I told him to go. I virtually __**challenged**__him to leave me._ "It's his decision, Bobby. I aint got no say in it."

"_It might have been his decision but why'd he make it? What did you say Dean?"_

"Told him to go back to Stanford, like he wanted all along. I should never have disrupted his life in the first place." Dean stared unseeingly ahead. "I thought he'd be safer there."

There was a pause and Dean could feel Bobby's anger pouring through the ear piece.

"_You stupid ass!"_ Bobby raged._ " He was **never **safe there, not after what happened to Jess, and maybe Sam never wanted to be a part of the hunt forever but he __**wanted **__to be a part of your life. You're all he's got left...and now he's in trouble. Dean, the way that guy sped away in a hurry, the way Sam was sitting in the passenger seat...he looked sick. __**Real **__sick."_

"Yeah well, he's always looked like that, and as Sam's so fond of telling me: he's a big boy now. He can look out for himself." Dean inwardly winced at his own words, knew it was his stubborn, argumentative _childish _side talking, but it hurt that Sam had so easily taken off again without a word; he hadn't even said goodbye.

_But..._

...Sam was out there alone, possibly in danger, very probably hurt, and all Dean could do was point the finger? Sometimes even he felt disgusted with himself. Before Bobby could yell at him some more Dean sighed and spoke up again. "Look, you got the licence plate right? Check it out and I'll hit the road, see if I can't find him. A red Ford Mustang you say?"

"_Yeah,"_ Bobby answered after a pause, obviously placated for now. _"An early 1970s model unless I'm mistaken." _

"Well there can't be too many of those out there, someone's bound to have seen 'em." Dean had made his way back to the kitchen by now, and he froze when his gaze fell on the folded sheet of paper bearing his name, resting against the toaster.

"_Dean?"_ Bobby was getting worried at the sudden silence.

"Just a sec."

He touched it tentatively at first, then delved right in and unfolded it.

Another silence. Then:

"Aw Sammy." Dean whispered, fearfully. "What have I done?"

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Sam roused slowly, chin resting on his chest. He really hoped losing consciousness from blood loss would also come hand in hand with memory loss, but sadly he could recall every waking moment since his capture. Up to and including, and he grimaced at this point, the kiss. It was like being assaulted by a reptile, his mouth ravaged by a hot, rough tongue, and Sam desperately wanted water or possibly concentrated nitric acid to wash his mouth out. Not that it would do him much good. As soon as the kiss was over, he? She? It? _Ladyboy? _had yanked the gag back in place and reached round his neck to tighten the knot, the material cutting into the soft flesh of his cheeks.

He tested his bonds for any give and the ropes immediately tightened up again, making him wince in pain.

_Nope. Still fucked. Ropes must be charmed or something._ And suddenly that had him worried.

_Given that kiss, was it just possible...?_

"Not a chance big boy. You're not my type." A familiar voice right by his ear made him jump. "Humans are such scum, I wouldn't waste my time."

Quashing back that terrible, _curious_ part of him that wanted to know just what exactly _was_ a demon's type in the battlefield of sexual exuberance, Sam sighed through his nose in relief. The last thing he wanted to worry about was being raped; at least now he knew his 'virtue' would remain intact, so anything else? He could deal with it. Sam wasn't a Winchester for nothing, in spite of what his brother and father might have thought of him.

He was about to change his mind.

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_**Author's notes:**_

_Here we go, a new story for Sendintheclowns's birthday. Hope you enjoy it darling. _

_Kind regards,_

_._


	2. Chapter 2

**Back For Good Chapter two.**

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"Damnit Sam!" Dean thumped down in a seat next to the kitchen table and read the letter again, tears threatening to spill over.

_Dean,_

_I'm sorry. I would have left sooner if I'd realised just how much I was hurting you; I knew you didn't want me around but couldn't leave well enough alone. After all those years you looked out for me, and I let you down time and again._

_I won't be going back to Stanford; can't face it after what happened to Jess, and besides, too much has happened and too much time has passed for me to go back down that path. I'm not cut out for that life anymore. Guess you and Dad were right._

_Gonna hit the road instead. Not sure where I'm heading but I promise you won't have to hear from me again._

_Stay safe for me bro, that's all I ask._

_Sam._

Dean scrunched the note up in his fist, shoulders shaking, effort of holding back the sobs just too big. As if he hadn't lost enough, now he'd pushed away his only family, forced Sam to leave and put him in danger.

Refusing to waste anymore time, he grabbed the keys to one of Bobby's old heaps and slammed out the kitchen. He intended to find his little brother, make sure he was ok, get him medical attention if necessary, _then_ they were going to set a few things straight.

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The blindfold was wrenched away from his face shortly before another blast of icy water assailed him, leaving Sam blinking rapidly and gasping at the chill. Once his vision was clear a grinning Meg-possessed-Richard was at eye level. Sam virtually snarled around his gag, which only caused the demon's grin to widen.

"Still full of that fighting Winchester spirit huh Sam?" Richard leaned closer and the grin turned into scowl. "Full of shit more like!" His hands moved quickly and suddenly Sam was warily eyeing the approaching syringe. He shifted in his seat as the demon brought it closer, hand steady as a rock, thumb already hovering over the plunger.

As he felt the needle sink into his neck Sam was yanking violently at the ropes securing his wrists and elbows, the chair itself rocking dangerously on its legs. The burn wasn't like before, when he was first taken. This didn't relax him or knock him out; just the opposite. White hot pain raged through his body and his muffled screams echoed round the room, bouncing of the walls and coming back at him mockingly. His body was on fire from head to toe, and he prayed to pass out. But no such mercy came for him, the pain keeping him trapped in a waking nightmare.

It seemed to go on for hours, until he slumped in the chair sobbing softly, his bonds the only thing stopping him from sliding off into a puddle on the floor. He tried _so hard _not to think of rescue, that notion a bearer of false hope; Dean didn't know where he was, let alone that Sam was in trouble.

_Would he even come for me if he did?_

'_Course he would. He might hate me but he wouldn't want to see me hurt or suffering, right?_

It was too hard to hold on. Sam was alone; he had no one left in the world that truly cared about him, and he was even passed the point of being afraid. He knew he wouldn't survive this and he wasn't going to fight it any longer. It was ok though, so long as Dean never had to find out.

A hand grasped his hair, painfully yanking his head back and Richard gazed at him appraisingly, a lopsided smile curling the corner of his mouth. Sam stared back through half-closed eyelids.

"So, you don't think he'll rescue you? Your big brother? _I _don't know...he's a prideful one, sure. Doesn't like the thought of anyone messing with what's rightfully his." A smug yet curious smile crossed his features. "But he kicked you out, right? You've been nothing but a thorn in his side since the day you were born..." The demon watched him closely with considerable satisfaction. "Yeeesss, that's right huh? You were useful for a while, but now you're nothing but a burden Sam. One big useless. Waste. Of. Space. No wonder Dean couldn't wait to get rid of you." The demon appeared to study Sam's face, gazing intently into his eyes. "No. You haven't had quite enough yet."

Sam's exhausted eyes widened in fear and he attempted to shake his head loose. The needle came at him again, only this time it held a far larger dose.

_Ok, maybe not __**too**__far passed the point of being afraid. The next junction perhaps?_

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"Excuse me; I'm looking for my brother. He's about six foot four, brown shaggy hair, blue-green eyes. We had a fight and he left a few days ago; I haven't heard from him since and I'm worried about him." Dean held out a recent photo of Sam accompanied by a tentative, fearful smile. He was _really_ playing the worried older brother card, and the gas station store assistant was falling for it hook, line and sinker. Not that it was much of an effort; worried was an understatement. "He was spotted near here in a red Mustang on Tuesday."

Every time he thought of that fight an image of Sam's face, eyes shining with hurt and sadness descended and threatened to crush him with shame and regret. He'd tried calling Sam's cell phone but always got his damn voicemail, leaving message after message, ranting at him for taking off, apologising for treating him like shit and finally begging him to come back. It was becoming more and more likely the kid had been snatched off the road because Dean was damn certain Sam wouldn't have ignored those calls.

For his brother's sake Dean had to get a grip.

The young woman flicked her long dark hair over a shoulder and bit her lip in a way that under other circumstances would've had Dean reaching for the condoms.

"Uh sure. I mean I saw the driver. Your brother was in the passenger seat, fast asleep."

Dean frowned. "How can you be sure it was him?"

She shrugged. "CCTV, but Rory will tell you. HEY RORY!" Dean tried not to flinch at such a loud bellow coming from someone so small. "Getcha ass out here!"

A wizened elderly guy came shuffling from out back and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"You remember this kid from yesterday?" she asked him when Dean once again held out the photograph.

Rory squinted a little. "Yeah. He was in a Ford Mustang, 1973 model. Sweet. Though not as pretty as the second generation in my view..." Somehow sensing Dean's impatience he hurriedly continued. "I was out fixing one of the pumps, but that kid looked real sick. I even tapped on his window to ask if he was alright, but he didn't wake up. Then his friend came back and looked at me kinda weird, like I was after his property or somethin'." He shrugged. "Some gays are possessive like that I guess."

"What did the other guy look like?" Dean felt his fear on the rise once more. This sounded bad.

"He was cute enough, blond, blue eyes," the girl took over the conversation again. "But...well...he kinda gave me the creeps." She shuddered, giving Dean a very nice view of her jiggling cleavage.

"How dya mean?" Dean ignored the golden globes for now, but vowed to come back and get closer look when he found his brother safe and sound.

She bit her lip again, and Dean groaned inwardly. "Well, he had these piercing blue eyes right? But when he had his back to me? I caught a glimpse of him in the security mirror," she pointed to the right hand corner of the store, just above the magazine stand. "I could swear...I don't know..." she shook her head frowning.

"Swear what?" Dean held up a hand palm out when she glanced at him doubtfully. "It's ok. You can tell me."

"Uh..." She shifted nervously, and all thoughts of a pleasant interlude at a later date went down the chute as Dean once again felt his impatience grow. "I could swear that they turned black...just for a second." The young woman sighed apologetically. "It was a long shift and I was probably just over-tired...ya know?"

"That's probably it. Nothing for you to worry about." Dean smiled and nodded, but before leaving the store he paused and turned. "You happen to know which way he was headed?"

Rory answered this time. "Just after he pulled out the station he took the second exit."

"Thanks. Much appreciated." With a tired and worried frown deepening between his eyes, Dean was soon back on the road.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Another dose of freezing water hit his over-heated skin but Sam barely reacted.

Meg had been cutting him again, but the worst pain...the absolute worst was the branding iron that sealed the wounds to keep him from bleeding to death. All feeling should have faded under the influence of shock and the cold, but everything seemed intensified as though his pain was given an extra boost.

The blindfold was back on, like the gag merely a humiliation and degradation tactic, his eyes only released when she truly wished to bear witness to his agony, and he could only guess at how long he'd been held here. What little he could remember about his surroundings during whatever the hell those injections had been, were the cold, grey stone walls. It had felt like a warehouse, long disused and dilapidated. During the times he was left on his own he was sure he heard rats scurrying around, nosing amongst the old newspapers and rotting takeout wrappings. At least they weren't coming anywhere near him. Yet.

"You can rest assured that he won't care enough about this, will he? I mean, he won't get the chance, not after I'm done. Tell me Sammy, your brother spent much time with you lately? Bet it was more than _my father spent with me!"_

Sam groaned pitifully as the shivers wracked his body, causing further pain. He was developing a fever, possibly from the cuts adorning his body but more likely because of the tight ache in his chest. He'd been exposed too long to the cold, and the freezing water didn't help.

"And ya know, it hasn't escaped anyone's notice that your brother came for you asking for your help when your father went missing....but now John's dead, the very man Dean idolised and hero-worshipped all his life...isn't it funny how he really doesn't need you now? He _used _you Sam. He's cast you aside now he no longer has any use for you."

"Demon's lie you fucking bitch!" Sam tried to yell through the gag, before he felt her reach round him and tighten it painfully. Despair set in as he allowed his head to roll forwards, chin once again resting on his chest. His body ached with the need to move, his muscles sore and tense; there was no support for his head and his neck felt under high tension.

"Had enough yet Sammy? I sure haven't. Dean would love to see this, little Sammy paying for all the pain he caused him" That smug _bastard's_ voice came from behind him this time, tugging at his bound hands, forcing his fingers to uncurl and he tried not to panic. "In fact, at a _pinch_..." Sam screamed as his thumb nail was suddenly gripped and wrenched out. "I could go all night. 'Cos you know how to beg for mercy Sam, even gagged you know exactly how to beg."

The demon set about _slowly _removing every single one of Sam's fingernails, delighting in the frantic screams of pain and muffled angry cursing, and when Meg was done with his hands...

... she started on his toes.

And _still_ Sam refused to beg.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_Dean? You found anything?"_

Den glanced around the parking lot of a run down seven-eleven, eyes taking in everything from the broken street signs to the mangy stray cat washing itself obscenely on top of a graffiti ridden wall.

"Yeah but the trail goes cold in the next town." He huffed a little in disgust at his surroundings. "If you can call it that. What you got for me Bobby? And _please_ tell me you've had better luck!"

"_The Mustang was registered to a motor mechanic from Detroit. His name is Richard Browning, blue eyes, blond hair, 'bout six three in height. He threw up a flag 'cos he served time for kidnapping and murder back in the '70's and is even now wanted in three states for two other counts of the same offences from about three months ago and he's one vicious sonofabitch..."_

Dean interrupted. "Sounds like our guy but why in hell did they let 'im go?"

"_Good behaviour and some technicality that recently came to light; probably searched his house without a warrant or something. Took him this long to get an appeal against the original verdict." _Bobby paused_ "Dean, this guy's renowned for torturing and mutilating his victims. We need to tread carefully round this one, think real hard about our next move."_

Dean froze. His mind went back to the cabin when his demon-possessed father ripped him to pieces without even touching him; but that was no ordinary demon. He took a few slow breaths to calm the roar of blood pounding in his ears, and tried not think about what Sam could be going through right now.

"Yeah, well I got more news..."

And proceeded to fill Bobby in on what he'd found out at the gas station, and judging from the silence at the other end of the line, Bobby wasn't all that surprised. "I'll just bet that demon's having a field day with this one: a human after its own black heart. Probably enjoys the hands-on approach."

"_Well, that might explain how he really got out." _Dean nodded silently. Wouldn't be the first time a demon lawyer or judge got involved._ "And the trail just warmed up. Heard it on the police scanner someone matching this guy's description was seen near some old warehouses not far from you. The cops looked into it but they aint too bright round here; bound to have missed something'."_

Dean had a pen and paper at the ready. "Where exactly?" Listening intently, he scribbled down the address before announcing "I'm on my way."

"_Dean? Wait for me ok? Don't go in there by yourself. If it is a demon then you'll only put yourself at risk."_ There was a small pause to let that sink in. _"And that won't help Sam any. Ya hear me kid?"_

Dean closed his eyes and tried to reign in his anguish. He knew it made sense but it was hard knowing his little brother may well be in deep trouble at the hands of hell spawn.

"Yeah, I hear ya Bobby, I'm not gonna do anything stupid. Trust me."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam sat there in a painful daze, head lowered, feeling the blood from the last beating drying on his face, tightening the skin. He wasn't sure which pain was worse, the physical or mental. Silent self-lectures in his own head ensured he never stopped fighting and struggling, no matter the punishment, and the demon took every opportunity to rage at him, tell him how little his brother cared about him, revealing facts and quotes that only a demon observing from close quarters could possibly know.

_She must have been watching us for weeks._

_It's two steps forward and too many steps back each time....._

Sam had tried not to listen - _demons lie after all_ - but being kept so long in solitary, with no way to see, speak or move, all control taken from him, and that last _fight_ with his brother still ringing in his head....he just didn't know where to go, where to hide from the pain. Sam didn't want to give in but any reason he had left to carry on was slowly diminishing. The demon was going to wreak further havoc on him, and Dean? It was a show of just how despondent Sam had become when he starting wondering if his brother even cared about him anymore.

He was starting to believe her.

Sam was going downhill fast and he just hoped the demon grew bored with him soon. Sure, a slit throat with a quick death, or slashed open stomach accompanied by a slower and much more painful one was not the way he really pictured going. But since when had life ever played out well for the likes of Sam Winchester?

The open wounds on his fingers and toes where his nails use to be had dried up, which was just as well as his hands were going numb. His prison guard was back with him, cruelly tightening the ropes binding his arms, but Sam was way beyond caring. He couldn't imagine how much tighter those ropes could go but naturally he was going to find out.

Sam tried to close his ears and make his mind go blank.

Except the demon wasn't going to allow any reprieves and grabbed his chin, placing his mouth against Sam's ear. Sam could feel the hot breath on his face and fought the urge to shudder with disgust.

"Look Sam, as much as I appreciate your company I'm getting a little bored here. How 'bout we invite your brother to the party huh? 'Bout time we livened things up a bit."

Sam's head snapped up, breathing fast through his nose, and started shaking his head frantically, a muffled pleading noise coming through the cloth in his mouth.

"_Nnnnoooo, pleafe, don...leafe fim alofe"_

The demon smiled. It finally had the youngest Winchester grovelling and begging, and the noise was sweet music to its ears.

Ah family. _Always the Winchester weakness. _But Meg loved to push the boundaries.

"Sammy, Sammy Sammy. It's your brother I want, it's always been him. _He's_ the one who sent me back to hell." Richard/Meg ran a finger gently down Sam's nose, now badly broken. "Of course, having you here _has_ been one hell of a bonus, and I _can't wait_ to see his face when he gets here."

Sam's breath caught in his windpipe when he heard the familiar sound of his cell phone on speed dial. Panic assailed him and he felt like he was going crazy.

_Maybe it'll be ok. He won't come right? She said it herself he's glad to see the back of me...but maybe....maybe he'll save me...maybe.....maybe...he'll come for me...I'm his brother...he won't leave me to die....told me go...wanted me to leave...maybe...maybemaybemaybemaybemaybemaybe..._

"Say hello to your brother Sammy." The gag was once again yanked free.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean's cell phone was buzzing away, Motorhead's Born to Raise Hell filling the empty silence of the old heap.

"Bobby?"

He frowned at the silence, instantly on his guard. "Sam?"

"_Hey there Dean. Seems your baby brother's a little phone shy, huh Sam?"_

Dean's eyes widened with fear when he heard a pained grunt from the other end of the line.

"You hurt him and I swear I'll fuck your ass!"

"_Ooh Dean you're sooo naughty. I'm a demon babe, how dya know I wouldn't enjoy it?"_ Dean could hear the caller talking to his brother. _"Ya see Sam? This is just what we talked about earlier; __**such **__bad language."_

Dean was getting the nasty impression that he knew this particular demon rather well.

"Meg." Dean sneered angrily, "shoulda guessed."

There was a slight pause, followed by a swift intake of breath.

"_You remember me! I'm flattered!"_ Meg/Richard appraised with glee.

"How could I forget?"

"_Indeed. Now Sam, be nice and talk to Dean. No? A little incentive perhaps?"_

Instead of hearing his brother's soft voice, Dean heard Sam's blood curdling _scream_.

"What the hell ya doin' to him you bitch! _Leave him alone!_"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The Meg-Richard demon combo glanced down and sneered smugly.

"Just making sure your little brother doesn't get cold feet..."

Sam's ankles had been tightly lashed to the chair legs, and when she tilted the seat back he had no idea what was coming. When he'd refused to speak, refused to draw Dean to his rescue and ultimately into the demon's trap, he'd heard the noise of something heavy being scooted over the floor towards him, along with an ominous sloshing sound. Then suddenly Meg pushed his chair back down...

...and his bare feet were plunged into _boiling_ _hot liquid._

The agony was immense, unlike anything he'd felt before, and Sam could almost feel his skin crinkling and blistering on contact, the pain taking his breath away. The chair was dropped the rest of the way, and now his ankles fell victim to the hot water. Sam finally found his voice and screamed and _screamed_ for what seemed like forever until his voice cracked and all he could manage were desperate croaking whimpers, but the pain just didn't stop. It grew, surrounding him, becoming _part_ of him....

"Pl-please...n-no more" he panted, no longer above begging for mercy but this time for himself. "Pl-please, st-stop...just f-finish it...please... d-_do it now...please...stop...please...stop...Dean...S-sorry..._"

"Hear that Dean? That's your baby brother asking, no _begging_ me to put him out of his misery." The demon grinned over at Sam, who was still muttering, begging, _pleading_. "You got two hours to get here before I oblige him. Follow his GPS signal. I'll leave his cell switched on and set _right_ beside him; now I can't say fairer than that huh?"

Sam, on hearing his brother was still on the line immediately tried to call out.

"_Dean n-no! St-stay away..."_ But he was cut off when the cloth was shoved back in his mouth and wrenched tight at the back of his neck. Sam was whimpering in pain and could still hear his brother ranting on the cell phone, so near yet so far.

"_You fucking bitch! Let 'im go! Sam! Just hold on buddy, I'm gonna get you out..."_

The demon chuckled gleefully. "Two hours Dean or it's over for your brother. Not that he's got much time left given the fun _I've_ been having!"

All Sam heard just before he lost consciousness was the resounding snap as the cell phone was clicked shut, and Meg's malicious giggling.

_M'so screwed..._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

And here it is. The gratuitous Sam whumpage/torture/angst fest continues. So, injected with an unknown substance that causes him tremendous pain, no finger or toe nails left, he's being beaten on a regular basis, cut up and lanced, hypothermia and possible chest infection setting in and his feet have been badly scalded.

And now it seems he's going a bit loopy. Poor kid. The things I put him through in the name of entertainment eh?

For those of you who didn't know this story has already been finished (more or less) and my intention is to post a chapter a day, though I have a tendency to tinker so some chapters might be released a little later.

Cheers for all the support so far and I'm really pleased everyone's enjoying it.

Kind regards,

ST xxx


	3. Chapter 3

**Back For Good Chapter 3**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean made no attempt to stop the tears rolling down his face as he pressed his foot to the throttle. The sound of Sam's voice filled with pain and misery would be the source of many years of nightmares he was sure. Sam wasn't one to beg, not for himself and certainly not for his own life to end. Dean had never, _ever_, heard his brother sound so broken and lost, and judging by the screams of agony Sam injuries were beyond serious.

_What the fuck she do to you little bro?_

Flipping open his cell phone, he got Bobby back on the line. As far as he could tell they had at least one advantage. The demon had given him two hours to show up, but Dean was closer than that. _Much_ closer.

Close enough to build on the element of surprise maybe.

"Bobby? I've had contact."

"_And?"_

"It's Meg, and she's using Sam as bait to get to me."

"_Ok. We can work with that..."_

"That's not all." Dean wound down his window, desperately needing the fresh air. "Sam's in a bad way. I heard her torturing him but I don't know what she did."

"_I got the major incident med kit with me. He'll be fine."_

"Yeah." _Sure hope so._

But Dean didn't feel too confident.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam shifted in his bindings and raised his head. He was now grateful for the blindfold because he really didn't want to see the state of his feet. He remembered intense, scalding pain extending from his toes and right up to his ankles, and the fact that his feet were now numb was not a good thing. Either he was in severe shock or Sam guessed at third degree burns, the skin blistered away and the nerve endings withered and scorched by the hot water.

Freezing water was dumped over him at regular intervals, though always making sure to never hit his burning feet.

He honestly didn't know how much more he could take, and felt only a small glimmer of shame at the memory of begging, _pleading_ for death, because he'd do it again if it meant keeping Dean safe. Sam knew he was done for; his breath came in short sharp gasps, about all he could manage, the deep ache in his chest and the eventual painful coughing had led to the taste of copper in his mouth. So he added possible pneumonia to the long shit list of other ailments, up to and including the strained arms and wrists from having spent the last god knew how many hours trussed so tightly to the chair. Sam hung his head and gave one last forlorn attempt to remove the gag by tilting his head and rubbing it against his shoulder. All it earned him was a strained neck, and he huffed miserably through his nose.

Was Dean really coming for him? Sam's recollection was pretty hazy now and he had glimpses of conversations he'd really rather not have witnessed. The demon seemed aware of so much detail, and Sam knew she could read minds. Maybe, even given the distance she'd managed to read Dean's. He just didn't know what to believe. It had been drummed into him from the moment he woke up that Dean not only couldn't stand being around Sam but that his absence was more than appreciated.

Yet he _remembered_ hearing Dean's voice, promising he'd come for him...

_I don't know what's real anymore..._

Sam had no idea where the demon was; she, _it_, had scuttled off chuckling with sickening glee not long after she disconnected the call. Meg told him she was preparing for Dean's arrival, and that thought allowed a cold dread to take up squatter's rights in Sam's already troubled stomach. But his head felt muddled to hell.

_He won't come here though...told_ _me to leave... I'm nothing but trouble...hates me....never wanted me around...always in his way...I'm nothing..._

_...I'm nothing._

Sam shivered in the cold and hung his head miserably.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean pulled over as soon as he spotted Bobby's truck. The man himself was perched on the tailgate checking over weapons, flipping through notes, and generally keeping an eye on the entrance to the abandoned industrial estate. Even though they'd guessed where he was being held, they'd taken Meg's graciously offered advice and tracked Sam's cell phone signal just in case. Dean had managed to adapt the EMF reader to pick up other electrical signals, including the signature of Sam's cell phone and it soon jumped and squealed, confirming Sam's location.

Bobby jumped off the truck as soon as he saw Dean and strode over. A narrow eyed gaze swept the boy up and down. "You ok kid?" Dean was pale and sick looking, hands a little shaky but Bobby wasn't sure if that was fear or rage showing through. _Probably a little of both._

Dean gave a sharp nod. "Fine. I'll be better when we get Sam back and I kick that bitch's ass!"

Bobby returned the nod with an understanding one of his own. "So what's the plan?"

Dean stared at him wide-eyed and blinked. "What did I just say?"

A shaggy eyebrow slowly rose in astonishment. "You're serious! Dean, you can't just barge in there guns blazin'!"

"It's me she wants not Sam." Dean began coldly. "an' she aint gonna get me. I'll just exorcise the bitch again..."

"Are you outta your freakin' mind boy? She doesn't care! She wants the both of ya." Bobby snapped. "You gotta think this through, Dean. It's a demon that _you_ sent to hell and now she's back. Don't ya think she mighta learned a few new tricks down there?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth like a guppy fish at feeding time, then crossed his arms with a petulant scowl. "Ok. Whatcha got in mind?"

Bobby grinned, marched over to the back of his truck and grabbed a large duffel bag. Hauling it out, he lugged it over, letting it land at Dean's feet with a suspicious, dull, metallic _clank._ Bobby nodded at the bag. "Go on, pick it up."

So he did, or at least tried. Dean's eyes damn near crossed at the weight and he groaned loudly. "What the hell you got in here?"

"Open it up and take a look." Bobby crossed _his_ arms, the grin turning real smug. "It's just a little somethin' I thought up a while back."

Dean dumped the bag back down, threw his old friend a questioning gaze, then unzipped it. A frown appeared at first, which changed in to a small smile. But when he caught the full significance head on, the smile broadened and he started laughing.

"Bobby? Man, you _are_ a fuckin' genius."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The industrial estate was huge so it was lucky they had a decent fix on Sam's cell signal. As soon as they found the right building, Bobby and Dean split up as planned. Their immediate mission was to seal off every possible exit, including windows, but not exactly in the _conventional_ sense. And they had to move in quickly, not allowing the demon any time to set up booby traps.

It was so simple it was beautiful, Dean reflected, allowing another small grin to form. He held a flat, pizza-shape made of iron and around sixteen inches in diameter in front of a rear door and dropped it to the ground with a dull clunk. After using his foot to kick some dust and sand over it until it was almost invisible to the naked eye, Dean moved onto a ground floor window and dropped two more.

The key of Solomon, Devil's trap, intricately forged out of solid iron._ A true work of art._

Bobby told Dean it was something he'd been working on for a while now, and there were plenty more where these came from. The advantages were obvious; being flat they could be easily hidden and used to seal any door; but mainly, unless the demon had a blow torch handy, it wasn't going anywhere and being consecrated iron it couldn't even _touch _the trap.

The next part of the mission wasn't so easy. To rescue a seriously injured Sam, get him out safely, and somehow pin the demon down long enough for an exorcism. Without getting trapped or hurt. Or, worse, killed.

_All in a day's work. Not a problem. I do this all the time._

Armed with his Taurus and a hip flask of holy water, Dean waited until the prearranged time was up, and advanced.

Moving slow and silent through the building, Dean laid another devil's trap at each doorframe, effectively covering his back as he went. He needed to find his brother before anything else, but if the demon couldn't follow him then that was a bonus.

He was making good time and Sam couldn't be far off by now, his cell signal getting stronger by the minute. But when he finally entered a large room, Dean was to be hugely disappointed.

And pissed.

Sure, Sam _had_ been kept here at some stage that much was obvious from the fresh blood and the strange smell of burning flesh. There was a deep bowl of rapidly cooling water nearby, and Dean didn't want to guess at its use. But the real clincher was the small grey cell phone left lying forlornly in the middle of the room.

He should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

_We've been had._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Bobby checked his watch. Time to reel the bitch in.

Bobby was moving in from the opposite side of the building to Dean, in hopes of flushing out the demon and trapping it. He crept out into the hallway and came out on a balcony overlooking the main warehouse. Old rotting boxes littered the floor, still full of merchandise so out of date even the rats didn't bother with them. And judging by the smell he really couldn't blame them. His eyes scanned the cement floor, noting footprints in the dust accompanied by twin drag marks, roughly half a metre apart.

_Sam. _So the kid _had_ been brought down this way at some point, probably tied to a chair. Movement in the far corner made him shift his gaze to spot a furious Dean, and he was making all kinds of silent _obscene_ gestures that suggested they'd been well and truly screwed over.

_Tell me somethin' I don't know!_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

His chair was tilted once again, and he braced himself for whatever was coming next, but instead the chair was yanked backwards and he felt it being dragged on the back legs.

"_What are you doing? Where are you taking me?"_ Sam tried to talk into the gag, but it came out as _whaf a y doon? Wher y tafe mmee?_

Another giggle instead of an answer. Sam lay there helpless to stop it and tried hard not to panic. Whatever the demon had in store it couldn't be good.

Suddenly the movement stopped and the chair was slammed forward with bone jarring force. Sam let loose a muffled groan as his fragile body protested at the harsh treatment. He broke out into a painful bout of coughing, felt the cloth in his mouth soaked with blood once again.

The _ladyboy_ demon finally spoke, its words chilling Sam to the bone. "They're here. A little earlier than I planned, but that's no problem. It just means that the _fun starts now..."_

Sam held his breath until he heard him...

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Don't you think you've had enough _fun _at my brother's expense?" Dean announced from the doorway, scathing sarcasm dripping from every word.

Dean and Bobby had followed the drag marks as far as the offices then split up. Bobby had made his way round to the other entrance and was currently crouched behind a decrepit old photocopier, shotgun and holy water at the ready. Both entrances to the office had been sealed by devil's traps, and Bobby couldn't wait to see the look on the demon's face once it realised its predicament.

The demon rose to its host's full height, the smug grin slipping a little. It really hadn't expected this so soon, but it still held the advantage in the shape of Sam Winchester, and the demon knew Dean wouldn't do anything that would put his brother in danger in spite of what he'd told his captive. Before anyone could blink Meg grabbed Sam around the neck and pulled him back, a blood stained knife appearing at the kid's jugular; Dean tried not to flinch at the muffled grunt from behind the gag. "Oh I'm not done yet. I can see how you might've enjoyed having a kid brother though Dean. He's so much _fun_ to play with. As you can see..."

Dean didn't need to. When this confrontation began he'd glanced at Sam just the once, and immediately wished he hadn't. The kid was a mess, beaten and bruised and covered in blood. After that, Dean kept his gaze trained on the demon's every move, not daring to look at Sam again. If he did he would just freeze with anger.

There wasn't much Dean could do for his brother with the demon so close. Bullets wouldn't really harm it; maybe even antagonise it into killing Sam outright. He needed a distraction. Movement behind the demon made his eyes slide over to Bobby Singer; Dean ever so slightly twitched his right hand to indicate which arm to shoot - the one holding the blade at his brother's throat.

Before Bobby could even get off a shot, the demon raised a hand, palm back, and Bobby was suddenly airborne and crashing into the office wall. He dropped to the floor with a loud groan.

But when the demon tried to do the same to Dean, something strange happened.

_Nothing._

Dean looked down at his feet. He was standing on the devil's trap in front of the doorway. The demon's powers had no effect on the iron or on anyone or thing attached to it. Dean grinned nastily.

"What's the matter there Meg? Or should I call you Ricki-boy? Nah, _Dick _seems more appropriate if you get my drift." Dean sneered at the now rather angrily puzzled demon when it raised its hand a little more forcefully, and once again Dean failed to fly into a wall. He merely raised an amused eyebrow. "Ran outta juice there _Dick_?"

Sam chose that moment to erupt into a round of wet, rasping coughs, his throat hovering dangerously above the blade. Startled, Meg lowered the knife not willing to lose her hostage so soon. Support now gone, Sam's head tipped forward as the painful sounding coughs continued, and Dean soon saw his opportunity.

Revealing the last of the iron devil's traps, Dean threw all his strength into one last effort. He drew back his hand, then with surprising speed given the weight, and with plenty of strong shoulder movement, pushed it forwards and a final flick of the wrist sent the trap spinning towards Meg.

It was all a little bit anticlimactic when the host's head detached itself from the body and dropped to the office floor with a sickening thud, and after teetering on the brink the body soon followed. But the black cloud escaping from the ruined human more than made up for it, as it screamed around the room, trying to find an exit.

It slammed into invisible barrier after invisible barrier, each door or window covered by the circular pieces of iron, either on the floor above or below. Its movements became ever more frantic and it sped up, whirling round until at last it found what it was looking for. A small air duct in the ceiling and a few seconds later, the cloud was gone.

Bobby slowly shook his head, eyes wide, as he finally got to his feet. He couldn't find any pity within himself for the dead guy, not with the charges on file against him.

Dean didn't waste precious moments thinking about it; there was time enough for reflection later. He darted across the floor to Sam, who'd fallen worryingly silent. Dean stared at the horrendous cuts and bruises extending from face to torso, heart aching at the muffled whimper as he gently grasped the kid's shoulders.

_Oh God..._

Sam struggled weakly, squirming just for a second until exhaustion overwhelmed him and all he had left to give were heart wrenching muffled pleas.

_"No more. Please no more..."_

"SSShhhh Sammy don't be afraid, it's just me and Bobby; the demon's gone and we're gonna take care of you. Ok? Sam? Can you hear me kiddo?" Dean untied the blindfold easily enough but the cloth in his brother's mouth was so tight and encrusted with blood it had to be cut away with Dean's hunting knife. Sam coughed and moaned softly at the slight movement, and Dean stilled for a second allowing him time to adjust. He grimaced at the filthy rag, soaked in Sam's blood, and threw it as far as he could across the room. Sam's eyes remained closed when Dean cupped his jaw and gently tilted his head, wincing at the mass of bruising on his face. "Sammy?" He tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice and whispered gently, "come on buddy, open your eyes for me."

Sam's bruised lids finally fluttered open and Dean smiled into tired and frightened eyes.

" That's ma boy! Let's get you outta those ropes huh?"

Trying to keep up the smile and not at all sure why, Dean released him, moved round the back of Sam's chair and stifled a horrified gasp with a hand clamped firmly over his mouth. Sam's arms had been draped over the back of the chair and ruthlessly tied together from elbows to wrists, which in turn had been tied to the chair back. But the ropes were so tight Dean could barely insert the blade safely between them and Sam's skin. He winced when he thought of the pain Sam would be in once he got the feeling back in his fingers, and that made him look down at the kid's hands. They were smeared with dried blood; Dean gently began to brush the flakes from Sam's fingers, trying to check his nails for a blue tinge. But when he realised that he couldn't check Sam's nails _because he didn't fucking have any_, Dean very nearly lost the meagre contents of his stomach right then.

_Sweet Jesus!_

He swallowed the bile rising in his throat and calmly went about checking the ropes, trying to find any give in the knots that would loosen their hold on Sam. With some gentle tugging, he finally made room to slide the blade in and quickly cut the bonds away, rubbing the kid's limbs as he went. Sam moaned deeply in pain when he was free, and without the ropes to hold him up he started to slide from the chair like a rag doll, head bent and arms fallen limply to his sides. Dean caught him neatly under his arms before any more damage could be done. Sam was making continuous small pitiful mewling sounds by now which Dean did his best to ignore; the kid needed help not coddling.

"Christ Sam, what the hell did that bastard do to you?" Dean muttered in despair. He had to hold him awkwardly whilst he reached for the bindings at Sam's ankles but he just _couldn't get at them_. "Hey Bobby, could use a hand here."

Bobby had been collecting the iron traps and incidentally giving the brothers some time with each other, but now he was at Dean's side and grasping Sam lightly but firmly round the shoulders, gently pulling him back into the chair whilst his brother attempted to cut his feet free.

Dean stilled, stomach heaving yet again.

"Oh God...oh...fucking _Christ!"_ Dean's sudden cry of fear and anguish caught Bobby completely off guard and he nearly dropped the younger brother. When he looked at Dean's face, twisted in remorse and disgust, he realised the boy was actually _crying._

"Dean what is it?" It was a tentatively asked question that suggested Bobby wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. Dean just shook his head in mute shock and pointed down at Sam's feet. Bobby followed his gaze and nearly gagged at the sight.

"_Holy crap..."_ Yeah, he was really regretting that question.

Dean found himself breathing hard and fast and trying not to panic. But it was coming back to haunt him now...

_Just making sure your little brother doesn't get cold feet..._

Sam's _feet_...

... were a mass of red, raw, blistered, _boiled _meat. That explained the smell of scorched flesh back in the warehouse...and the bowl of water....

_Oh God that was Sam..._

Dean was shaking from head to foot with anger, but another agonised moan from Sam helped him fight it back. The last thing the poor kid needed was an enraged older brother yelling and kicking the walls.

"Easy Sammy." And he tried _so_ hard to keep his voice from shaking. Dean nodded to Bobby. "Get some blankets and water, and call 911. Sam's gonna need more help than a med kit can provide." But tears rolled down his face anyhow.

"Sure thing, but let's get Sam on the floor first." Bobby assisted in gently and _slowly_ moving Sam out of the chair, wincing when the kid whimpered and cried out in pain. Dean held a hand under Sam's neck, supporting his head much like he did when he used to hold Sam as a baby. And boy did he wish for a return to those simpler times, when keeping Sammy safe was so easy, at least compared to now when it seemed every possible evil was waiting in the wings just for the right opportunity.

Dean rested Sam's head on his knees, shrugged out of his jacket and used it to protect his shivering brother from the cold. Bobby removed his own but this time folded it and raised Sam's denim-clad legs, tucking it underneath his ankles. Without another word, Bobby headed back to the car.

Dean's anxious gaze swept his brother's bruised face, then he lowered the jacket a little to check his bare torso. Most of the cuts were superficial, little more than scratches, some were cauterised and weeping fluid, but others were frighteningly deep and Dean was amazed Sam hadn't bled to death. One cut in particular seemed to be red and puffy from infection, and Dean's jaw clenched.

Sam rolled his head with a small cry of pain, eyelids fluttering, and when he tried to shift his limbs Dean held him down.

"Don't move Sam. Just stay still buddy, ok?" Dean didn't bother to wipe away his own tears; they'd only be joined by a few more soon enough.

Sam's eyes snapped open in panic. He stared up into familiar green eyes and whimpered again. "No, no, no..." he croaked out breathlessly and started shaking his head. "You...y-you...w-wha..."

"Shhh, calm down Sam."

"No...no. Y-you t-told me to l-leave....dinwanmearoundnomore...." Sam choked violently as fresh tears rolled down his face. The wheezing from deep in Sam's chest as he tried but failed to catch his breath was made all the more painful by the slow sad smile, like he'd had some kind of revelation, one that truly broke Dean's heart. "Alwaysscrewupthoughright? Th...thasme," he winced and blinked rapidly, trying to stay awake long enough to get the words out, "y...you f...found Dad..." his voice was fading as it became harder to draw in air and his eyes drooped in exhausted defeat, "d...don't... n....n....need me ...y...you can m...move on..."

Dean stared down at him in horror.

"No! That's not the way it is Sammy. Need you for so much more kiddo. You were always the one that kept me sane, kept me from going too far. You have to stay with me, _please _Sam. Don't go, stay with me."

"_Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me..." _Dean muttered and stroked a few blood encrusted strands of hair from Sam's forehead. He had a vague idea what was going through his little brother's head, but it was clear he was delirious. Sam's chest rose and fell, shallow and fast, accompanied by disturbing wheezes and deep crackles each time he inhaled, and blood. There was always blood.

His blue-green eyes were over-bright from fever but Dean couldn't miss the sadness shadowing them. Sam needed hope, something to hold on to not a reminder of what his so-called over-protective big brother had done to him; sending him away and right into the clutches of Meg. Dean didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive himself for this. Aside from the physical injuries Sam had also been hurt by his brother's rejection at a time when they needed each other most, and Dean didn't think he'd ever forgive himself for that either

"Just hold on Sammy," Dean reached out and grasped his brother's hand gently, raising it to his cheek and letting him feel the tears. "Bobby's gone to get help, and we'll soon have you outta here and tucked up in a nice warm bed, right Sam? Sammy?"

But Sam had drifted off again, and Dean couldn't really blame him; poor kid had to be in a world of pain. Dean kept stroking his scalp, talking to him, keeping Sam from falling over the edge.

"I'm so sorry kiddo." He whispered sadly. "I never wanted you to leave; I just thought it was the best thing for you and I was _so screwed up_. I didn't wanna see you getting hurt, or killed like mom and dad. But I fucked up little bro, I _really_ fucked up 'cos you got hurt anyway."

Bobby reappeared beside them and dumped several soft blankets on the floor along with the med kit. "Given the extent of his injuries they're gonna send a chopper with a burns specialist. Should be here in twenty minutes." He grabbed a blanket and started folding it as he spoke. "They advised extreme caution; he's in shock and any unnecessary movement could kill him. They also said do not treat the burns; they'll deal with them when they get here." At Dean's frown he added "I'm assuming that's to minimise infection risk. Just keep him warm, calm and rested." He gently removed his jacket from under Sam's feet and replaced it with the folded blanket. Then he covered Sam's upper body in another blanket just as he started shivering again.

Dean shifted round so that Sam's head was resting in the crook of his arm then snaked his other arm round the kid's waist, gently tugging him close and using his own body heat to keep him warm. He gazed intently at Sam's face, willing him to wake up again, to let him know his kid brother was still here.

Bobby took a closer look at Sam's feet and grimaced. No doubt about it; had to have hurt like a bastard. He must have been in unbelievable pain and Bobby could only guess at what else had been done to Sam by that black-eyed bitch...bastard. Gently rolling up the tattered remains of Sam's filthy jeans so the fabric didn't scrape along the burns, he moved his examination up to one of Sam's arms, sticking out the edge of the blanket; the ropes had really done a number on him, tied so tightly leaving wide black and blue indentations that still showed in spite of Dean's attempts to massage the bruised flesh. The stomach churning friction burns on his wrists and elbows suggested Sam had violently struggled to free himself, and the bruising and scratches around his mouth was probably from having spent most of his captivity being tightly gagged as well as beaten. But it was the suspicious looking marks on his neck that raised a whole host of other questions.

_Shit!_

The burns were serious enough to be life-threatening, as was the deep chest infection; the kid was dehydrated, beaten senseless, suffering from shock and god knew what else. But what the hell had Sam been injected with? Bobby's mind filled with terrible thoughts of HIV infections, or Sam being forced to take Heroine or some other potentially lethal drug. He didn't want to be an alarmist, and he was pretty sure Dean didn't need the extra stress right now either, but something needed to be said.

"Dean, have you taken a look at the needle marks on his neck?" Bobby asked softly.

Dean tensed up as his eyes roamed over his brother's still form, finally coming to rest on the side of his neck. There were at least seven puncture wounds that Dean could count clearly, and all were swollen and inflamed. He gently touched the side of Sam's face and whispered softly.

"Sammy? Can ya hear me? Do you remember being injected with something?" To his amazement, Sam opened his eyes to slits and nodded slightly. Dean worriedly smiled down at him. "Did Meg tell you what it was?"

Sam's eyes lost their lucidity as dark memories washed over him. He frowned and whimpered in distress then started shaking his head. "Hurts...don't wan....n'more...._please don't...._" That last plea nearly killed Dean. Just those two words drove invisible stakes right through him. He'd heard Sam beg for mercy once before over the phone and hearing it up close and right in his face made it no less frightening. Dean pulled him closer as if his own body could shield Sam from the painful memories. Mouth right by Sam's ear he whispered soft words of comfort and reassurance, promising to take care of him, that he'd never leave him.

"No more Sammy, I promise. No more injections. I won't let anyone hurt you again I swear it."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

Sam's rescued but that's only the start. More trouble lies ahead, and Sendintheclowns? Got a few great OCs lined up I hope you'll like!

Took the idea of the EMF from someone elses story but I can't for the life of me remember who it was by, but I remember the plot: Dean's buried alive in a graveyard and Sam uses the EMF to find his cell phone signal.

Please note that from here out the medical knowledge is somewhat shaky and I might have blown things up a little for the sake of the story, so please don't have a go!

Kind regards,

ST xxx


	4. Chapter 4

**Back For Good Chapter 4**

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Bobby averted his gaze, not wanting to embarrass either of them and to afford the boys some privacy. He kept himself busy by bathing the wounds on Sam's exposed arm with anti-septic solution and keeping check on the kid's vitals. Bobby closed himself off to the whispered mutterings clearly only meant for Sam's ears, but at the corner of his eye he couldn't fail to notice how Dean held his brother like a new born baby; protective, consoling, calming.

Sam soon quieted much to Dean and Bobby's relief though the coughing and spluttering made him moan and gasp for air. Dean swallowed down his fear each time he wiped away the fresh blood Sam gurgled up, and did his best to keep smiling.

A noise like a giant angry hornet gradually filled their ears, and the slow whump-whump of the rescue chopper as it settled just outside the building. Bobby was already up on his feet and running for the door, available to direct the EMTs to the injured boy.

"Here we go Sam." Dean whispered as two men in flight suits and bearing heavy looking med packs strode through the warehouse and into the dilapidated office. "You're gonna be ok."

Sam blinked wearily and nodded slightly though Dean didn't think he was entirely sure what was going on, but then the poking and prodding started and Sam was writhing and bucking, crying out in fear and panic.

"Jesus! What the hell happened to the kid?" One of the medics called out worriedly.

"NO! L...leave me ALONE! NOOOOO!!!" Sam twisted weakly in his brother's arms, trying to break free while Dean did his best to hold him still.

"Sammy calm down they're here to help you." Dean tightened his hold reluctantly, knowing it had to be hurting his brother but Sam didn't seem to care and even struggled all the more. Eventually Dean managed to restrain him, pinning Sam's arms to his sides as he gazed fiercely into his little brother's face. "SAM! Listen to me...I said, LISTEN TO ME! These guys are trying to help you. Ok? You understand me? Tell me you understand me Sam! They are NOT here to hurt you, ok? I won't let that happen." Sam blinked at the hard edge to Dean's voice and finally stilled.

Dean watched as his kid brother's eyes swept over him, searching for something though Dean had no clue as to what. After a few long seconds, sad and frightened eyes locked with Dean's.

"_Promise..?_" he croaked out feebly.

Dean dropped his forehead to rest against Sam's. "I promise," he whispered back, then nodded to the EMTs that it was ok to continue.

But Dean had also promised no more injections and Sam watched with rapidly rising fear as syringe packets were ripped open, needles inserted. He didn't want to let his brother down, not after he just promised to keep him safe, but Sam couldn't help whimpering in fear when someone gently grabbed one of his arms and wrapped a tourniquet round it, searching for a good vein.

"_Please...don't.._." he didn't struggle so much this time but fresh tears filled his eyes as he tried to flinch away, only to be held still and firm by his brother. Dean hated putting him through this but it was necessary if Sam was going to survive the journey to the hospital; keeping his mouth by Sam's ear he muttered in a low voice that only his little brother could hear and take comfort in. Blood was drawn for renal and liver function tests, the vacutainers stowed away in the med kits.

"It's ok...Sam is it?" At Dean's nod, the EMT continued talking calmly, explaining what he was doing. "This is just to help you relax, and ease the pain. It won't take long and you'll soon be feeling like a million bucks." He winked at the bewildered look on Sam's face as he finally slid the IV into his arm. "Well...maybe not a million, certainly a thousand." The guy finished kindly.

Dean was gradually relinquishing his hold on Sam, letting the EMTs take over as his brother started to relax. When Sam's eyelids began to droop, Dean took the opportunity to scoot away allowing the EMTs more room to work though he didn't go far and stayed within Sam's line of sight. The sound of the portable cardiac monitor beeping away merrily to itself brought a sort of comfort, signalling that his brother really was alive. He watched as gauze packets were opened and expertly applied to the multitude of injuries, a cervical collar secured round Sam's neck, an oxygen mask slipped onto his face, and another IV line set up, this time for rehydration.

And all the while his poor brother looked absolutely terrified.

Dean hadn't noticed the woman talking to Bobby until one of the EMTs glanced over at her and announced they were ready. She'd been listening intently to Bobby and now she was marching purposefully towards the Winchesters, an air of authority and quiet dignity about her that suggested _no one_ crossed this lady. In her late forties, dark brown hair only just starting to grey at the edges, she was dressed in a flight suit similar to the medics.

Dean's first impression was that there was no way in hell he was going to like her. For a start she completely ignored Dean, her mouth turned down in a scowl, eyebrows drawn in, and her eyes cold, clinical and assessing.

But then she crouched down beside his brother... _and that all changed_.

"Sam? I'm Kathy Grey. I'm the burns specialist from the hospital. I trained and worked in some of the best burns units in South Africa and London so you're in good hands." Her strange accent startled Dean but she smiled down gently at her patient, who was now firmly strapped to a stretcher. Sam watched her warily, perhaps the presence of yet another stranger making him nervous. "I want you to relax and enjoy the flight; nothing's going to happen to you. You're perfectly safe." She turned to one of the EMTs monitoring Sam's vitals. "Keith, how's he fairing?"

Keith glanced up and smiled. "Heart beat's still a little too fast but he's slowly relaxing."

Dean watched with growing respect as Kathy shifted her gaze back to Sam, sensing nothing but kindness and concern from the woman. It managed to ease some of his anxiety when Sam appeared to calm down even further, and Dean wasn't entirely certain if it was due to the drugs or the suddenly warm demeanour of Dr Grey.

"I'm going to take a look at your feet now Sam ok? And I want you to tell me if you can feel anything, even if only slightly." Sam just blinked at her; Kathy smiled softly, and Dean couldn't help but feel a comforting warmth settle inside him. The looks of respectful adoration on the faces of the EMTs confirmed that Dean could trust her with Sam's well being, and though the doctor was rather plain, with a long straight nose and thin face, he soon realised that there was _something_ about her. Something special.

But it was when she smiled...those cruel, thin lips curled and made her whole face light up, once serious blue eyes now twinkling with a mix of concern and light amusement, and in spite of the deep age lines she managed to lose about ten years.

_She really should do that more often..._

Dr Grey muttered a few directives as she examined Sam's feet, splitting open more gauze packages. Every now and then she spoke softly to Sam, letting him know what she was doing. The kid didn't appear to understand and took no notice in any case, too content with staring at Dean and only breaking eye contact to blink. Occasionally he spoke.

"_Dean..." _But that seemed all he would have to say.

"I'm here Sammy." Dean smiled back each time. "Everything's gonna be ok."

He felt utter relief that Sam didn't panic or struggle when they finished securing him to the stretcher, though he still looked scared and bewildered by what was going on around him. Blue-green eyes darted anxiously from Dr Grey to Dean as he was carried out, and then the chopper as it came into view, his chest rising and falling erratically as he took shuddering breaths. The poor kid was obviously freaked and it made him look all of fifteen again, sending the protective big brother in Dean right through the roof.

"Relax kiddo. Nothing to be scared of here; I'll be right with ya all the way."

The interaction between the brothers hadn't gone unnoticed because once the doctor was happy her patient was ready for transportation she offered Dean a place in the rescue chopper.

"Ya hear that little bro? That's how worried I am 'boucha." Dean whispered loudly when they were finally settled in and ready for takeoff. "I'm in a godamned helicopter..._flying._" He eyed his brother with a mock glare. "Don't ever say I don't do nothin' for ya."

Sam just continued staring at him for a while before his eyes slid shut again. Dean was feeling more than disconcerted by the strange gleam in Sam's eyes, and wondered what it meant.

Was he angry with Dean?

_Couldn't blame him after the shit I pulled._

But when Dean's hand sought his, Sam willingly accepted it without hesitation, even giving it a weak squeeze. And every now and then Sam's eyes would open and fill with tears, which spilled over and ran down his poor bruised face; the first time Dean reached over and gently wiped them away Sam had flinched at the touch. But now he rolled his head into Dean's hand as best he could.

"You're ok. Just hold on."

Once the aircraft had climbed to a sensible height it was getting pretty windy out, and Dean leaned over his brother to protect him from the cold. Sam gave him a small smile of appreciation, closed his eyes and let his body relax.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

There was way too much hustle and bustle, the corridors filled with too many sick people, practically lining the walls coughing and spluttering and even in some cases puking their guts up. Dean was pretty sure that if the medical staff thought they could get away with it the patient's trolleys would have been stacked two or three high.

Babies wailed, nurses screamed, doctors yelled, and receptionists stood clacking away at computer terminals and answering phones - probably the only oasis of calm in the whole damn place.

Dean took one sniff of his coffee and ditched it. Really, paint stripper would have been more appealing. He alternated between shoving his hands in his pockets or fiddling with magazines, or sometimes even playing some stupid game on his cell phone, and all these activities served to hide just how badly his hands were shaking.

When he got really bored (anxious) or agitated (shit scared) he paced the hallway, playing chicken with the various gurneys and trolleys that shot passed, usually pushed by some harassed and overworked orderly with a rocket lodged up his ass.

Dean glanced at his watch and tried to stay calm. Four hours ago the chopper had landed on the helipad, his unconscious and badly injured little brother barely clinging to life. Flying had never been one of Dean's favourite pastimes and likely never will but it had to be the most intense and adrenaline charged thirty minutes of his life. Sam's blood pressure had plummeted in spite of the IV bags and blood transfusions, his laboured breathing becoming even more erratic and troubled, and eventually he crashed – _the flight medic's unfortunate words, not Dean's._

Dean had to watch as the defibrillator was charged up, the paddles prepared, Sam's blanket stripped to his waist, the whine, the build up, the moment when someone called out

"_Charge....clear..."_

He flinched when Sam's body bucked violently, stared hard at another medic forcing air into the kid's lungs through a mask and ambu bag, grip firm on Sam's jaw, counting each stroke under his breath.

_This isn't happening..._

And Dean was suddenly standing next to his brother, Sam virtually holding him upright as they both watched a similar scene with growing dread. They both knew the casualty, had known him all their lives...

_Time of death 10:41_

...and in the next moment they were orphans, no one else but each other in the world.

_And I sent him out into it, alone and defenceless. He didn't even take his weapons._

Back in the present, Dean sank wearily into his usual seat. He really wanted to sleep, he really wanted a large bourbon, he really wanted out of this place, his brother safe and well, the two of them heading on out to some long forgotten cabin in some long forgotten mountains where no one could find them, Sam could find some kind of peace and....

....and just be brothers again.

Safe and well.

He hadn't realised he'd spoken aloud.

"I can help with that."

Dean raised his head to find Dr Grey standing before him, white coat unbuttoned, stethoscope slung round her neck, clipboard and pen in hand. "That your way of telling me he's still alive?"

The corner of her mouth curled up into an almost smile before she took a seat next to him. "It was definitely touch and go but we managed to stabilise him a few minutes ago."

They hadn't talked much on the flight, what with Sam going into cardiac arrest and nearly _dying_ – Dean inwardly shuddered – but it was during the pre-operative stage that they really got to know each other. Her accent, once strange to him, was now fast becoming a comfort.

Kathy was Afrikaans though her father was American, a member of the Peace Corps back in the early sixties and met her English mother out in Rhodesia, or Zimbabwe as it is known today, a pretty dangerous place to be at the time. But they'd fallen in love and married, happy and content for some years. Then the horrendous violence and political backlash re-emerged and, fearing for their very lives at being caught in the cross fire, they'd moved back to the US ten years after Kathy was born. But she'd never forgotten her time there; the violence, the sorrow, and in spite of all the pain and heartache she'd never stopped loving the country in all its own special beauty. Even vowed to go back there again someday. As it was, she'd only so far ventured to Africa to study medicine in Johannesburg before moving on to London. Kathy, like Dean and Sam, at a young age had lost some people very close to her through unimaginable acts of violence during a war not of her making. Even Dean winced at some of the atrocities she'd described but it certainly explained a lot to him; her hard, no nonsense demeanour and determination being just part of it. And his respect for her had grown. He understood her a little more now.

But now she was back in America. And something told Dean that she was more than happy here, in spite of the burning urge to re-visit her home land. Plus she had roots here. Very wealthy roots as Dean was soon to find out.

He shook his head. _Stabilised? _"What does that mean exactly? Ya hear people say that all the time on those damn medical dramas, but does that mean he'll live? Or just that he's in limbo waiting to die?"

Dr Grey appeared to consider that before answering. "It means that he's comfortable for now and he stands a chance. Sam's vitals are holding, he's on oxygen and responding well."

Dean nodded. "Ok, I still hear a 'but'. Tell me, why do I hear a 'but'? And why do I get the feeling I aint gonna like it?"

"The nature of 'buts' I'm afraid." Dr Grey sat back and shoved her pen behind her ear, the clip catching on unruly locks that escaped her now rather tired looking ponytail. "Sam's unconscious with a bad case of pneumonia, the knife wounds on his body are mostly superficial but some are badly infected. At a guess I'd have to say that the knife marks were likely the first injuries your brother had to endure." She sighed in a manner that suggested she was building up to the big one, and Dean tensed. "His feet are another matter. They're also infected but not as badly as some of those knife wounds seeing as the infection is fairly recent; we caught it just in time and the IV antibiotics appear to be working well. Now this is good news, because it means we can start talking skin grafts sooner rather than later."

Dean frowned at her. "He nearly died! You sure it aint too early to be thinking about that? I mean, shouldn't we let him at least recover from the pneumonia first?"

Kathy raised an eyebrow at his tone but didn't seem to hold it against him. "On the contrary, the earlier the better to give him the best chance of the graft taking. And yeah, it's not ideal given his fragile state, but once he shows signs of improvement I strongly suggest we go ahead."

Dean slumped in his seat a little. "Ok. But what about those marks on his neck?"

"Microbiology is running some blood tests, but I've also sent some samples off to the toxicology lab. Those marks look like he's been injected with something, and given the chemical marks along his skin near the injection sites I'd say he was drugged or poisoned in some way."

"_Jesus!_" Dean got out of his seat and placed. Sam had come way too close on this one; how the hell was he going to explain it all to him once he'd woken up? "Like the poor kid aint got enough to deal with."

"Yuh, and there's the fact he was kidnapped, beaten and tortured on top of it all." Dr Grey watched his frustrated movements pause as he took that in, her voice still hard and clinical. "Sam's going to need your help in more ways than one. His physical injuries will heal over time and will almost certainly leave deep scars, but what he endured through his captivity? That's a very different story I'm afraid and depends on how much he remembers."

Dean considered that with a sinking heart. "How much do you think he'll recall?"

She shrugged. "Who can say? All of it, some, maybe nothing. We won't know until he wakes up but I do advise caution. Don't force him to remember anything, give him time to re-learn it all naturally."

"What if he asks?"

"That will depend on him but I would suggest holding off any questions until he's strong enough to cope with the answers."

Dean blew out a long breath. "Ok. What now?"

Kathy gave that half smile again. "Would you like to see him?"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean felt ridiculous in the green scrubs, fabric face mask and shower cap, as he insisted on calling it, but Dr Grey spent some time patiently explaining how Sam's room should remain as sterile as possible. It was a good job Sam was still unconscious because Dean would never have lived it down, and in any case Sam looked far worse off.

"Sammy." Dean whispered sadly when he stepped into the room and finally got a good look at his little brother. The poor kid was so still and pale Dean had to check the rise and fall of his chest to persuade him that he was still alive and breathing. Some kind soul had taken the time to wash Sam's hair and the almost-dried silken locks gleamed dully under the reading lamp just over his bed.

"Hey kiddo, you can wake up now." Dean sat in the chair next to Sam's bed, reached out to a box on the night stand and donned a pair of surgical gloves. He slipped his rubber-clad fingers through Sam's soft fringe hoping his little brother could feel it, was comforted by it. Sam looked so small, so young and vulnerable with his eyebrows pulled down slightly as though still in pain, and the oxygen mask served as a reminder of how desperately sick he was.

Dean smiled a little. "Or not. Whatever. There's no rush Sam. Just..." he bit back a sob and blinked heavily at the water pooling in his eyes. "I know it's a lot to ask and I've no right to ask it, but just keep fighting for me ok? I'll be right here Sam, I promise."

He gently reached out and held one of his brother's bandaged hands in his, taking care not to squeeze. "Feel that?" Dean whispered shakily. "That's me Sam, your brother. And I'm _right here_. Not going no place without you."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean wasn't allowed to stay the night in Sam's room but the nursing staff were kind enough to set up a small cot in the office right next door. Any time he wanted to see Sam during the night all he had to do was get up and sit by the window. It wasn't ideal but it was better than nothing.

Over the next few days Dr Grey discussed the process of skin grafting and Sam's prognosis. The kid was fighting the infections hard and the antibiotics had helped, and though pneumonia continued to dog him Dean was assured there were signs of significant improvement.

Bobby had been in a few times to offer support and he was always a phone call away, but mostly he kept in the back ground, still not wanting to intrude. The grizzled hunter had even been in to see Sam once or twice but always emerged saddened and troubled.

Sam hadn't truly woken up during that time. Dean had seen his eyes open once or twice but were so glazed over with fever, pain killers and general exhaustion he was pretty sure his little brother had no idea where he was or what was going on. As a result this left Dean with the task of signing the consent forms on Sam's behalf, and now they were preparing Sam for the skin graft surgery.

The debridement was the first step, or as Dean referred to it removal of all the crappy dead and damaged tissue, and just a basic description of the procedure made him wince in sympathy for his brother. But the graft itself was the tricky part.

From the way Dean understood it a special procedure had involved taking a few of Sam's skin cells to grow new ones in sheets in a laboratory. These sheets would be used for the graft and since they were Sam's own cells, the kid's body wouldn't likely reject it. That had launched a conversation on the pros and cons of autografts, which Dean was a little too preoccupied to understand most of. All he cared about was that his brother was going to get fixed up, with no risk of Graft Vs Host disease – a potentially life threatening condition for transplant or graft patients whereby the graft actually rejected the host. The original procedure on its own wouldn't be enough however; the grafts were often very thin, delicate and wouldn't stand up to trauma, but Dr Grey and her associates had been working on some new combined techniques and it was hopeful these would be the ones to help Sam.

Dr Grey explained that the cells had already been transported to her private laboratory and convalescence home over in the next state, where she intended transporting Sam once he was strong enough. The graft itself would be carried out in her private clinic where Sam stood the best chance of recovery in peace and quiet.

Dean hadn't been keen on that idea at first, until the doctor made it clear that he could be there every step of the way, and she had in fact called ahead to arrange a private room for the boys' own comfort. Though she secretly doubted Dean would be sleeping much.

The added bonus had been the police department's offer to pay for Sam's treatments by way of apology, in not so many words, for not having caught Sam's kidnapper earlier. Or in Dean's cynical mind they were hoping to avoid legal action.

Even Dr Grey had to agree with that one.

So after having studied the colour brochure of the convalescence home, been impressed by the sheer vastness and beauty of the estate, not to mention the sound of a fantastic menu, Dean signed his younger brother over to the care of Dr Grey, with Bobby Singer standing as witness.

The move was almost immediate, with Dean sitting in the special ambulance next to Sam and watching over him anxiously. Sam had whimpered from time to time at the slight movement but settled down at the sound of Dean's voice, or his hand gently rubbing Sam's neck or scalp.

"Dr Grey _wait_! That report," the young male nurse just about caught up before Kathy could signal to the driver. The poor guy was out of breath once he arrived, having run at full pelt all the way from the burns clinic. "I know I could have faxed it over to the estate on the secure line but you said it was important. It's the toxicology and micro report on Sam Winchester."

Kathy stared at it as though it might bite her before graciously nodding and accepting it. "Thanks Carl. It'll give me time to study it before we arrive." She could feel Dean watching her and sensed his matching dread as she ripped open the letter. Scanning the report she took a deep breath and climbed back up into the ambulance, nodding to the driver as he closed the rear doors. "I'll read this properly during the journey."

Making a few adjustments to Sam's IV, Kathy Grey studied her patient's flushed features with a concerned frown. Things were finally starting to make sense; why Sam was having such a hard time with his recovery. Sam was receiving pain meds way in excess of what was recommended by the medical council, something Kathy hadn't yet mentioned to Dean. The poor guy was under enough pressure as it was.

Dean was unusually quiet, waiting for the doctor to talk when ready, still gently holding one of his brother's bandaged hands in his own and wishing he could take off the surgical gloves.

Finally Kathy sat and faced him. "OK, good news is the full STD screen came back negative including for HIV, though I advise another check in three months." Dean appeared to wilt with relief. "However," she frowned again and glanced at the toxicology report, "it seems your brother was injected with a series of neural stimulators, in large doses by the looks of things..."

"Whoa hold on there," Dean, tensing up, held out his free hand. "What's that mean _neural stimulators?"_

"I'm coming to that but you'd best prepare yourself. It aint pretty." Kathy smiled sympathetically then went back to the report, and frowned deeply. "These drugs...uh....although they possess similarities to certain medicines available on the market, in particular some chemical structure and function, it appears that these were created for a special purpose."

Dean stared at her, eyes hard and when he spoke his voice was tight. "What purpose?"

Kathy swallowed hard and seriously felt like being sick. "Pain inducers, extremely powerful and effective pain inducers. According to this report the lab's never seen anything like it. And it looks like they were designed specifically for your brother. Strictly as a torture device." She glanced down at her patient, eyes shining with tears. "Jesus! How could anyone do that?"

"I don't get it, the bastard scalded his feet! How could those drugs have been any worse?" Dean demanded, a nasty feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach.

Kathy licked her lips and tried to control her sorrow. "Yeah, _after_ the drugs were administered. Dean, the pain Sam must have felt with those drugs in his system, constantly firing his cell membranes and nerve endings, the effects would have lingered for hours, any pain...." Even Kathy had trouble getting it out round a sob. "Any pain response could have been a thousand fold worse. I've no idea how he's still alive. The shock alone..."

Dean finally understood and turned to stare at Sam, eyes wide. "Oh God _Sammy._.."

_Jesus __**Christ**__ how he must have suffered..._

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_**Author's notes:**_

Dr Grey is very loosely based on a really cool friend and fellow scientist from South Africa who I have the utmost admiration for, and if she ever reads this I hope she knows that I _don't_ think she has a cruel mouth...it's just an added character trait. And she's actually in her thirties and looks sickeningly younger!

I've played around with history a little too and if that pisses you off then I strongly suggest you read no further....'cos in a few chapters time it's about to get seriously fucked up!

And yeah, I also know I played on more than a few medical facts here and taken some way out of proportion.

The scene of Dean waiting in the hallway for info on his brother is based on my own experiences, before anyone starts picking holes.

Who cares exactly?

Love you all.

Kind regards,

ST xxx


	5. Chapter 5

**Back For Good Chapter 5**

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He could feel someone gently running their fingers through his hair and it soothed him. Wherever he was it was quiet now, apart a soft beeping noise near his head, and that same someone was talking softly. His body felt strange, restricted in movement but not like before.

_Thank God _not like before. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened to him but terrible flashes of broken memories kept attacking him, muddling his already troubled mind. He'd been tied up at some stage that much he knew, and his arms throbbed with the reminder.

But there were other memories –_ assuming they were even real_ - and whatever place these came from it hadn't been quiet...

_A familiar comforting voice above the loud roar of an engine kept him from freaking out._

_He felt so cold, couldn't seem to warm up, wondered if he was dying. And then there was the pain..._

_There was so much going on around him, making him dizzy and confused, people poking and prodding and diagnosing and theorising and he just wanted to be left alone._

_Just give me the godamn painkillers and go away, PLEASE!_

_Because the pain was always there, like a permanent fixture in his life, and he couldn't handle it. He was actually starting to forget a time when he wasn't in pain._

_People were talking to him, but the one time he remembered opening his eyes in response it proved just too frightening: Someone came at him with a needle and this too was familiar..._

_...more pain, it meant more pain, noooooooooooo please no...._

_He remembered struggling, desperate to free himself....and Dean was there, reassuring him, helping him. And it __**was**__ Dean. But there was something wrong with that because he had another memory of his brother's eyes hardened with anger, voice mocking and taunting him. Sadness pulled at Sam's heart._

_What did I do to him?_

_And he answered his own question._

_I lived. Dad died but I lived._

_A sharp sting in his arm and the pain gradually lessened to a background throb, but still there, always there. Sam wasn't sure which part of his body hurt the most but figured it didn't matter. It wasn't a competition or anything. And now it didn't matter at all because the pain was gone, dissolved in a blur of injections, drugs, warm blankets and 'you're ok, just hold on.'_

_He sank back into the waiting darkness, unable and unwilling to stay awake._

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A woman in white.

_Woman in white? No. I took her home. Sent her to hell where she belonged._

A woman in a white coat. _Doctor?_

_Where am I?_

Nothing made any sense. He still couldn't move but felt no real compunction to. His body was wrapped securely in a soft fabric and there was something on his face, over his mouth and nose. Not restrictive but an irritant nonetheless.

His lungs ached, his chest felt tight and he panicked, drawing in short painful gasps and the woman in white – _woman in a white coat, doctor _- was talking to him, her voice kind and reassuring. A gentle tugging on his arm and comforting warmth slowly spread throughout his body, eyelids fighting to defy gravity but losing as they fluttered closed, and he huffed out an exhausted sigh.

_What happened to me?_

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_Sam..._

"Nuhuh, leave me alone..." His voice was scratchy and barely audible.

_Sammy..._

"Go away."

_Sam...please..._

It was no longer an annoying dream.

"...wake up, c'mon you been sleepin' for like a year...."

"Dean? That you?"

"Last I checked."

Sam slowly wrenched opened his eyes to a strange room. The bed was particularly comfortable and he felt snug and warm. He moved his sluggish gaze round the room, taking in nice decor, the wide full length French windows that looked out over a plush lawn, a flat screen TV.......

_Wow. This must be one expensive hotel. How'd Dean pay for all this?_

.....to his brother, who was sitting next to the bed. Dean was smiling that all too familiar smile of outright cockiness and big brotherly smugness, but Sam didn't miss the edge of concern, nor the dark circles under his eyes that suggested while sleep had been Sam's best friend – _a whole year apparently_ – it had avoided Dean like the plague.

_I must have gotten hurt on a job._

Blinking to clear his vision a little more, Sam also noticed a few other things. Dean hadn't shaved in a while, and his clothes looked like they'd seen better days.

"You look like shit dude," Sam managed to say, still somewhat surprised by how croaky his voice was, then broke out into a fit of painful coughing.

"Yeah, 'cos you just stepped right off the cover of GQ right?" Dean replied with more than a hint of good natured sarcasm.

Sam chose to ignore that. "What is this place anyhow? I thought we were staying at Bobby's." His lungs seemed to protest at the excessive use and attempted to crawl up his throat as he added a little breathlessly "you change your mind?"

_Why's he looking at me like that?_

"Dean?"

Dean eyed him worriedly. "You don't remember do you?"

Sam stared at him a little incredulous. "Remember what?" Then he took a closer look at the bed. It was electronically controlled, covered in white sheets and a thick warm dark blue blanket; the end was raised up leaving Sam's heavily bandaged feet higher than his body...

_Bandaged?_

Sam's eyes widened fearfully when he also took in the bandages on his fingers, wrists, arms and chest.

_Fingers? What? Did I go up against a cheese grater or something?_

"Dean what the hell happened to me?" His panic set off another round of coughing and the tang of salt and copper on his tongue warned him that something was very wrong. Sam felt weird, flushed and overheated, and his chest began to throb painfully. He whimpered, panting heavily and tried to shift his position to ease the pain but his body had its own agenda. "Dean...?"

The cocky smile had been fading slowly but now disappeared abruptly from sight and Dean was up out of his seat, perched on the edge of Sam's bed and wiping at his mouth with a damp cloth. Which to Sam's distress came away with splotches of red.

"Easy now. Relax Sammy; you've been through a lot." He murmured, but Sam was having trouble catching his breath, his tortured lungs refusing to cooperate. "Damnit Sam..."

Dean touched something on the nightstand then reached up, and Sam heard a small squeak, a soft hiss, then his brother was fixing something over his face.

_Ok that feels familiar..._

Breathing gradually became easier though Sam felt greatly lethargic, his chest still tight and painful. He gazed up at Dean in despair through heavy half closed eyes, and he could feel drops of perspiration pouring down his face. There were a thousand questions running round his head demanding answers but he couldn't find the energy to voice them.

"Easy Sammy, just take it slow. You still have a fever."

Dean watched him closely, running a hand through Sam's hair and talking in a low calming voice as though his little brother were a frightened child.

The door flew open and a small woman in a white coat strode into the room, carrying a clipboard, face hard with concern. Her expression softened when she saw Dean leaning over the bed and her eyes darted between the brothers worriedly.

"Dean, what's wrong? Your brother ok?"

Dean smiled but didn't take his eyes off Sam nor stop the soothing motion with his hand. "He just woke up and had a little trouble breathing, right Sammy?" Sam hadn't heard his brother talk this way in years, and he found it rather alarming. Dean was treating him like he was a fragile piece of glass, terrified Sam would break at any moment. It used to be comforting and made Sam feel safe when he was a kid, but this time it disturbed him because he knew he was missing something important. He stared into his brother's eyes, searching for answers, but nothing came back at him except the deep seated worry.

"Yeah, double pneumonia will do that," at the soft, kind, _Afrikaans_ voice Sam turned his attention back to the doctor. Her name tag read 'Dr K. Grey' and he raised an eyebrow in recognition.

As if reading his mind she announced "That's Kathy to you, and yes we have met before but you were barely conscious at the time."

And smiled the prettiest smile Sam had ever seen. In fact the woman's smile reminded him of his mother, though he'd only ever seen Mary in photographs.

Come to think of it, the woman's voice seemed even more familiar than that, but the only thing he was getting was some disturbing images of his brother's face twisted in anguish, the sensation of something whirring over head and the up rush of air, but accompanying all that came the feeling of absolute and inescapable dread. He was suddenly assaulted by memories of pain so severe that he gasped out loud; his entire body seemed to throb in agony, but in particular his chest and feet.

"_Dean..."_ Sam choked out through the mask, "_hurts..."_

"Kathy what's happening to him?" Sam heard his brother ask, voice desperate.

"His body is still recovering from the damage caused by those damn drugs, he's going to be a little sensitive for a while...hold on Sam..."

A wave of warmth unfurled in Sam's arm and slowly....so slowly.....spread through to the rest of his body, accompanied by a pleasant tingling that he felt clear down to his toes. But that void was still there and he was desperate to know what was missing. Flashes of a dark grey room and a grinning face with black eyes haunted him but told him little.

"You have to tell me what happened..._please!_" Sleepy eyes begged his brother for an explanation. "Dean, I need to know. The images...I don't know what they mean..._please_. They're scaring me."

Dean risked a glance at Kathy who gave a small shake of the head. _Not ready. Too much trauma._

"Easy kiddo, all in good time. Nothing's gonna hurt you here." Dean leaned even closer and smiled into Sam's frightened eyes. "I promise. You're safe. Just relax and give yaself some head space Sam, there's plenty time enough for explanations later. Ok? Trust me on this. You don't need this shit right now, just concentrate on getting better."

Sam gazed back feeling a strange mix of warmth and misery. "I just...there's something..." he shook his head slowly. "It feels like I've lost something....and...all I have left are _pictures_...pictures I don't even understand....and...and...."

Dean stared at him in dread. "What Sam? What else?"

After a brief absentminded examination of his blanket, Sam's anxious eyes met his again. "I felt so alone, scared, and....I don't know how to describe it but....._pain_....unlike any I've felt before..." Sam finally let go a sob that told of all his fear and sadness. "I felt so...so..._lost._"

Dean closed his eyes in despair and, Sam couldn't help but notice... _guilt_? "Yeah. We're gonna help ya through that Sammy. It'll all come back soon enough."

Whatever Kathy had given him was starting to make Sam feel pleasantly drowsy but he had one last question.

"Dean?" he slurred out. "I really been asleep for a year?"

Dean chuckled at his brother's apparent confusion and gently ruffled his hair, a small grin forming. "Nah. Just seemed like it." He watched as his little brother succumbed to sleep before adding softly. "Place's just too damn quiet without ya."

Kathy warmed the stethoscope in her hand before reaching under Sam's white Tee-shirt and pressing it against his chest. She listened intently nodding to herself a few times, then checked his pulse smiling at Dean encouragingly.

_He's doing fine_ she mouthed and Dean let all the air whoosh out of his lungs. He might have felt relief but still watched on a knife edge when Dr Grey took a few moments to study Sam's temperature readouts from the last half hour.

Her smiled widened and she gave Dean a double thumbs up. "His core temperature is slowly coming down," she whispered. "The new antibiotics must be working for him."

She adjusted Sam's IV, pulled the blankets up a little higher then quietly made her way to the door.

"I'll wait outside." Kathy slipped quietly from the room whilst Dean stayed a while longer.

He studied his kid brother, watching the way his breathing slowly deepened, sounding less ragged and harsh. If only he could turn the clock back, take back those days he spent looking for Sam, take back the moment he realised the most important person in Dean's world had gone missing, kidnapped by Meg, but most of all take back, chew up and spit out those damn words.

Those godamn, angry, _stupid_ words.

They'd held too much power over Sam, pushing him away, forcing him out of Dean's life and into danger. It never should have happened.

And when Sam finally remembered it would hurt him all over again. Dean didn't know what he'd do if Sam tried to leave a second time, driven out by the memory of his brother's cruel rejection, but he was determined to keep the boy with him from now on. Sam wasn't going anywhere on his own.

"We stick together Sam," he whispered fiercely, still gently running a hand through his kid brother's hair. "I'm not letting you go ever again."

A soft muffled moan was Sam's only response as he settled even further under the blankets.

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Sam was staring at the plate of scrambled eggs morosely. He really couldn't summon an appetite in spite of his brother's reassurances that the food was excellent. Besides, his stomach was full already, full up with anxiety, fear, guilt and paranoia that he wasn't safe. Sam knew it was irrational but he just couldn't control the panic attacks, which were all the more scary since his lungs were still recovering from pneumonia. Sure, he was improving each day _physically_, but Sam was really starting to freak out with what was going on in his own head. The flashbacks were ever more frightening and he still couldn't make any sense of them, yet when he really tried he got the distinct feeling that an explanation was only just out of reach. Every time he stared at his brother he just felt..._depressed._ Not a feeling he usually associated with his older sibling. And everyone was so tight lipped – Dean, Kathy, the nurses, and even Bobby Singer when he came to visit gave him _that_ look, the one that clearly stated he knew more than he was letting on. All Sam knew was that he'd been kidnapped and badly tortured by a wanted criminal and psychopath, and that he'd suffered some terrible injuries as a result. He was rescued by his brother and Bobby, that much made sense, but what Sam couldn't understand was how it had happened in the first place. The last thing he remembered was staying at Bobby's salvage yard whilst Dean rebuilt the Impala; but now he couldn't remember why the car needed rebuilding..._were we in a crash? Why can't I remember?_

Everything was so damn fractured it was driving him insane.

Sam had been shocked when Dean told him this was some kind of rehabilitation centre but it at least explained the private room with the large flat screen, not to mention that the food looked at least edible. More than that, according to Dean, it was delicious.

But Sam still couldn't bring himself to touch the eggs. He glanced up to glare at his feet, still tightly bandaged as were his arms and fingers. Dean had at least told him about his injuries.

Scalded feet.

Finger and toenails ripped out.

Cuts and bruises, mostly from having the crap beaten out of him, but some from having a knife dragged across his body.

Injected with some kind of pain inducing drugs? His body was still undergoing a purge but it was slow going since the Toxicology Unit assigned to Sam's case had never come across these before. Sam was on IV pain meds twenty four-seven until the detox was completed, but he still felt a twinge from time to time. Kathy told him his memory loss and confusion may be partly down to trauma but also suspected the drugs held some responsibility.

He was still staring at his feet.

His burnt feet.

His feet encased in a special post-operative VAC therapy device – or Vacuum Assisted Closure. The wounds were covered in a section of foam containing a perforated tube, then covered in bandages. Sam could hear the humming of the vacuum unit as it set up a negative pressure, effectively sealing the edges of the wounds to the foam. It was specially designed to assist in the development of new blood vessels and maintain the cleanliness of the graft site.

His feet with the new skin grafts, which were almost ruined several days ago when Sam unhooked the vacuum unit and slipped out of bed to try and cross his room to the window. An incident which resulted in a wheelchair being left next to his bed with strict instructions to call for assistance before using. Kathy Grey had told him he was lucky – _ha!_ – in that the nerve endings in his feet hadn't been too badly damaged and were recovering well. Apparently he was to stay off his skin grafts until further notice, and frankly this bedridden crap was pissing him off, though it surely beat the agony of trying to stand up.

Nothing was right. His body, his head, his emotions....all were out of kilter. Dean tried to keep his spirits up with the jokes, the big brotherly teasing, but it was all lost on Sam's confused and muddled psyche until he finally snapped, yelling at his brother to leave him alone. He'd immediately regretted it when Dean nodded sadly and without another word left the room.

And didn't come back. That was three days ago and Sam felt like shit.

He'd been asking after his brother ever since but there was no sign of his return. Dr Grey assured him that Dean wasn't far away, that he understood Sam needed some space and time to get his head straight. But Sam knew he'd hurt him and it was made worse that his constant pleas to see him resolved in nothing. Maybe Dean had reached the end of his tether and Sam would never see him again...

_Where did that come from? He's always been there for me. He wouldn't go now, would he?_

But something was warring with him over that issue and Sam wasn't sure of the answer.

Fighting back a sob Sam dragged the daily newspaper closer just for something to read, something else to _think_ about for a while and he was tired of watching TV documentaries. It was the first time someone had thought to leave a copy with his breakfast and Sam felt almost grateful, until he opened the front page and a frighteningly familiar face was staring back at him.

It wasn't a slow return and certainly not gentle by any means; the memories slammed into him all in one go, paralysing his body, his breathing...

"_...following the recent rescue of his latest victim, who has still not been named by the police, Richard Browning has been formerly identified as the ruthless murderer of countless others in a long history of cruel and brutal attacks. There has been no official word yet on the one and only surviving kidnap victim, who is believed to be a twenty three year old male, sixth four with dark brown hair, but it has been confirmed that he suffered the same burn injuries consistent with Browning's MO..."_

When the panic attack hit this time it was terrifying. Sam couldn't breathe at all and there was nothing he could do about it. He remembered it all now.

The confrontation with the YED in the cabin, the semi crashing nose first into the Impala, Dean nearly dying..._Dad's dead!_

Dean's anger, _hatred _as he told Sam to leave.

_I lived. Dad died but I lived._ He vaguely recalled having had that thought quite recently.

_No wonder Dean hates me._

Kidnapped, drugged, tortured, the ropes tightening painfully round his arms and wrists, unable to cry for help, unable to see through the blindfold...._it was all coming back._

The demon taunting him, the beatings - he remembered the _crack _as his nose broke - the feel of the needle in his neck, the tense grip on his fingernail and a sharp tug as it was pulled from its roots, his feet..._on fire_...

_Dean won't come to the rescue..._

_Dean hates you..._

Ignoring the suddenly wailing cardiac monitor, Sam wrapped his bandaged arms tightly around his abdomen; lungs empty and stomach churning violently, he was suffocating and couldn't bring himself to care.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The coffee sucked. Even here, where the food was as good as any high class restaurant, the hot drinks dispenser in the hallway gave out hot mud. Apparently it was required by all medical institutions to lay on shitty tasting coffee to all visitors and on call medical staff that really had no other choice if they wished to stay awake.

Dean grimaced but sipped it anyway. He'd spent the last three days just sitting outside Sam's room, occasionally sneaking in to sit with him when the kid was asleep, and leaving again when he showed signs of waking up. It wasn't that he thought Sam hated him or even that Dean was stubborn, he just didn't want to cause Sam anymore pain. Kathy had been in and out for the usual monitoring and kept Dean up to date with Sam's progress. Apparently Sam had been asking for his brother the last few hours, but Dean just couldn't bring himself to talk to him.

_Sorry kiddo, I'm just not ready._

Dean stared at his feet. The leather boots had seen better days, scuffed, worn, the soles in dire need of repair.

_Much like their owner. _

But Sam's feet..._Jesus_...he was still having trouble dealing with it all. The poor kid was just so helpless, lying there unable to move without pain, and when he'd been caught trying get out of bed earlier in the week, it was only Dean's quick reactions as he stepped into the room that prevented Sam from face planting and causing himself further injury. Dean shook his head in sadness at that memory.

Things were just so damn complicated. Surely it should be simpler than this? The drugs had almost wiped Sam's memory, so why not take advantage and try to start again? He knew it was a foolish thought since it was only a matter of time before the drugs were out of his brother's system and the memories returned.

But Dean was hoping to put off the inevitable.

Sam barely remembered anything of the last few months, didn't know their father was dead, had no recollection that his captor had been a _fucking demon!_ Dean was almost grateful to Kathy that he wouldn't have to be the one to explain it all, but at the same time he could see what it was doing to his brother. Sam was way too smart for his own good and knew that something was going on, something no one was telling him. Sam's frustration was growing each day but his doctor was still reluctant to let Dean fill in the gaps, which made a kind of sense. When Sam was ready his mind would unlock all the memories for him, and then both brothers could get on with the healing process. Unfortunately for Dean that meant Sam would also remember how he'd been kidnapped in the first place, and he hoped like hell that one day Sam would forgive him.

The sound of rapid squeaking caught his attention and he glanced up worriedly to find Kathy virtually running in her soft tennis shoes along the hallway.

"Kathy?" He barked out sharply.

"Something's going on with Sam, the monitors at the nurses' station..." she didn't stop to explain, just threw open the door to Sam's room and raced inside, Dean right behind her. He stared in shock when he saw his little brother struggling to breathe, mouth gaping, lips blue, unable to draw air into his lungs.

"Shit! This is the worst one so far," Kathy muttered as she pressed the call button. Lowering the head of the bed, she grasped Sam's chin, tilting his head back to keep his airway open, then forced the oxygen mask back over his face.

"Sammy, calm down!" Dean thumped down in the seat beside the bed and placed his hands either side of Sam's face. "It's ok, just take it easy..." His voice trailed off when he caught a glimpse at the open newspaper. Sam had obviously been having a morning read during breakfast, but when Dean recognised the article he swore long, loud and viciously. He ignored the activity in the room as two nurses arrived, one pushing some kind of med cart. He was watching Sam's face and felt disturbed by the blank, glassy look in his eyes. It was the final straw. Whatever Sam may have suffered at the hands of Meg, this had truly broken him and there was little doubt in Dean's mind that Sam's memories had indeed returned.

"Sammy I'm so sorry. Please believe me, I never..._Oh God no!_" Sam's eyes rolled white, lids drooped to half mast as he gave up under the strain.

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_**Author's notes:**_

This chapter has leapt forward with the story, mainly because I didn't want to get too bogged down before moving onwards. But just so you know this part takes place over a period of weeks. As you can see, Sam's memories are pretty broken and leaving the poor kid utterly confused which is why I thought it would be fun for someone to accidently slip the daily newspaper on to Sam's breakfast tray...'cos I'm just mean like that! Hehe!

And yes, he could have watched the news reports on TV but for the purposes of this story...he just didn't.

Hope you all enjoyed it and that it didn't come across as too confusing though if it did then you probably have some idea of what Sam's experiencing!

Kind regards,

ST xxx


	6. Chapter 6

**Back For Good Chapter 6**

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"Here," a dram of fine single malt was shoved under Dean's nose. "You look like you could use it."

Dean grabbed the crystal tumbler and knocked it back in one go, earning a grimace from Sam's doctor.

"Is that any way to treat a twenty year old Macallan? Shame on you!" Kathy poured him another two fingers. "At least savour this one a little."

Dean grinned sheepishly and took it a little slower this time. They were sitting in Kathy's office, indulging in her emergency stash of scotch, and given how the shake in Dean's hands had _almost_ died down, the calming influence of the slow warming amber liquid was greatly appreciated.

"Is he really gonna be ok?" Dean asked quietly, staring into the golden depths of his drink. He really wanted to be back in Sam's room, watching over his brother; in fact he never wanted to leave him again. But Kathy had insisted, pulling him from the room once Sam was calm and stable, dozing under the influence of a mild sedative. "I mean, he stopped breathing. How the hell can it get so bad that he _stops breathing!_"

Kathy shrugged. "He's still very weak. The slightest shock could upset his equilibrium; his lungs are still struggling with the pneumonia and let's not forget that he was traumatised already. It was just too much for him to take in, but I'm pleased that he can still breathe on his own now. I've already had..._words..._with the orderly that left the news rag in Sam's room, though it's the horse and stable door scenario I'm afraid." She tilted her head a little to study him. "How did you know?"

Dean turned and noted the strange look on her face. "I just do. He wouldn't have freaked out like that for any other reason; he's just not the type." He sighed tiredly. "He remembers now. Dad's death, the kidnapping, the torture...what I did to him." Dean hung his head.

"And what exactly did you do to him? Or perhaps I should rephrase that." Kathy lifted an eyebrow. "What does that stubborn brain of yours _think_ you did to him?" This was old news to the doctor, having had this conversation not long after Sam was admitted for skin graft surgery, and whilst she agreed that Dean's actions in pushing Sam away had been cruel she also sort of understood his reasoning, even if it _was_ messed up. Of course, she didn't know the full story and if Dean had his way she never would. Even to a doctor as kind and compassionate as Kathy the explanation of the 'Family Business' would be too much, and in Dean's opinion the woman didn't need or deserve the additional nightmares.

He thought about ignoring the question at first but knowing Kathy he guessed she wouldn't let it go.

He took a long sip of the scotch. "When Sam announced he wanted to go to college our Dad went ballistic and forbade him to leave." Dean waved a hand at the incredulous look on the doctor's face. "Yeah, I know what you're gonna say. Why would any parent begrudge their child a decent education, right? Don't ask. It's..." another hand wave "..._complicated_. It's enough to say that Dad was worried Sam wouldn't be safe out there on his own."

Kathy nodded. "That's what parents do." She had two grownup children of her own now, both married with good careers, but she still worried for their safety.

"So there's this huge fight in which Sam's about to walk out, but then Dad...._stupid_ bastard...tells him if he leaves that he's to stay gone." Dean lowered his gaze back to the tumbler. "It was two years before I even spoke to my little brother again." A frown formed as he thought about the time since Jess's death. "I guess I always blamed Sam a little more than Dad for that. But recently?...I dunno...I realised I'd only ever really looked at that night from Dad's point of view. But now I've spent the last few months getting to know my brother again I've seen how much that fight hurt Sam. _Really _hurt him. Then Dad dies, I pretty much accuse him of being a bad son, and I tell him to get lost." He snorted without humour. "Thought I was doin' him a favour sendin' him back to school, keepin' him safe. He's all I got left and I go do the exact same thing to him that our father did, only this time it nearly gets him killed. Some brother I turned out to be."

Kathy set her glass down on the desk with a small indignant thud. "Total nonsense! You couldn't have known what would happen, there's no way either you or Sam could have guessed that bastard was lying in wait. It was just plain bad luck Sam stepped into his sights when he did." She reached over and grasped Dean's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "But it could've happened at any time; in the convenience store, outside a coffee house, hell even the parking lot of the local bar. So stop blaming yourself. Yes you have a lot to apologise for where Sam's concerned, but not that." Another squeeze to emphasize her point as she finished quietly with "Not. That."

Dean didn't know what to say, just sat there staring at his whiskey. Something else had occurred to him. According to Sam's letter, his brother had no intention of going back to Stanford, just wanted to disappear off the radar. How badly had Dean fucked up that Sam felt he had no other option?

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam had been awake for a while now but had yet to open his eyes. The oxygen mask was back, that much was obvious and though it still irritated him to no end, without it breathing was a constant battle with his aching ribs, wheezing windpipe and raging sore throat.

He wanted out.

He _needed _out.

He was fed up with this bed, this room, _this life!_

_Why are you even still here?_

Sam's eyes snapped open, tears suddenly leaking from _nowhere_. He hadn't even realised he was about to cry.

_Seriously....You planned to go back to school, right? Well here's your chance._

He coughed a little, feeling another burning ache but this time deep in his heart.

_Just go. You don't wanna be here, and I sure as hell don't want you around._

No longer able to hold it in, Sam broke down into desperate, painful sobs, large tears rolling down his face and he couldn't find enough shame or energy to wipe them away. Now he remembered why he'd left; now he knew how the demon had gotten to him. Dean hadn't wanted Sam around anymore, fed up with the sight and sound of him, the reminder...

_...Dad died but I lived..._

Nothing made sense, everything seemed turned upside down. Even the demon had agreed that Sam was a waste of space, just another burden on his brother's shoulders.

_Dean's always watched my back, but he'd be better off without me. He's finally realised the truth and now he's trapped again. Trapped by guilt into staying with __**me**__._

Sam glanced over at the wheelchair Kathy had left for him, and wondered if maybe some fresh air would do him good. He needed a change of scenery after being stuck in this room for weeks on end and he hoped with a bit of luck it might help clear his head. Getting into the garden from here would be easy enough; someone had left the French windows slightly open and there was a small neatly kept path leading across the lawn and into the rose garden beyond.

The panic hit him with almost physical force and the feeling of being trapped threatened to overwhelm him. It was like being back in the warehouse.

_Have to get outta here!_

Sam hauled his body into the wheelchair, biting his tongue into silence against the pain, and folded a blanket over his knees. The exertion left him breathless and he gave himself a moment's grace to get his breathing back on track. It wasn't until the last minute that Sam finally removed the oxygen mask, IVs and monitoring equipment before leaving the room via the French doors. Someone would likely be alerted at the nurses' station but he hoped to be some distance away by then. The path sloped downwards so it wouldn't take up too much of his strength, providing him with a much needed head start, and Sam almost laughed at that. He sounded like a prisoner making a break for it.

_But that's what it __**feels**__ like._

A light breeze on his overheated skin made him shiver as he wheeled himself down the path, keeping control of the speed so the chair wouldn't runaway with him. By the time he reached the rose garden and he'd ducked inside, well out of sight of his room, Sam was exhausted. Looking round he spied the roof of what appeared to be an open summer house or gazebo in the distance and headed on over, somewhat dismayed by its dilapidated appearance; its roof was covered in moss, with green ivy creeping up the support struts and winding in and out of the broken windows. Clearly hardly anyone had visited this place recently, standing long forgotten on the far side of the grounds. Sam began to envy the small garden shelter its anonymity and peace, having spent most of his life wishing for the same. As he wheeled closer Sam realised he liked it more and more; it was pretty in a ruined castle kind of way, no longer of much practical use but holding its own precious memories within.

The rain hit before Sam was even halfway there, soaking him in seconds, and now it was imperative he get under cover of the summer house. Shivering, water virtually blinding him and dripping off his nose, Sam pushed hard and finally made it, gasping for air. The bandages on his hands and arms were almost shredded from the combination of being soaked and the effort of pushing on the wheels; calming a little, he grimaced and refused to look too closely at the stubby nails that were growing back, or the rope abrasions and fading bruises on his lower arms. The bandages on his chest and shoulders were protected only a little from the rain by his shirt, but at least his feet were completely covered by the breathable waterproof material that shielded his injuries from infection and water whenever he took a bath.

Glancing up at the roof of the summer house, Sam could see where time and the elements had worn holes in the structure and rain water poured in, splashing on the rough cement flooring beneath. He stayed by the entrance and stared out into the garden, fully sheltered under an undamaged part of the roof. Shivering more violently, his wrecked lungs put up an angry fight and another bout of vicious coughing had him writhing in pain. What little strength he might have had left after this small journey soon dwindled to nothing, and he slumped in defeat.

He certainly hadn't put any thought into how he was getting back to the room, and under other circumstances he might have cared. It would all be an uphill effort and even Sam wasn't so far gone to realise what an impossible task it would be.

_Does it even matter anymore?_

Sam drew the blanket up and round his shoulders for what little benefit the sodden material might provide, and leaned his head wearily against the rotten doorjamb. A cold wind swept on through the garden, the rose buds nodding and quivering as the rain drops continued to fall, but Sam didn't feel it. In spite of the uncontrolled shivering he felt flushed and sick, head fuzzy and stuffed with cotton wool, lungs rattling with unforgiving mucous, and the garden swam in and out of focus. But for the first time since he was kidnapped by Meg he felt truly free.

_Maybe I'll just stay here._

He wasn't even aware when his eyes slid shut.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Dr Grey?" A knock at the door was followed by an anxious looking nurse poking her head into the room without waiting for an answer. "We have a problem."

"What is it Nora?" Kathy was on her feet immediately.

"Uh...Sam Winchester's monitors alerted us that he'd crashed and..."

"What!?" This was Dean, who was not only on his feet by now but also striding towards the nurse, his face contorted with fear.

"It's ok!" Nora was quick to reassure them. "He didn't. Just the opposite in fact...er..." She bit her lip unsure of how to put it.

"And?" Kathy raised an eyebrow, her heart performing somersaults in her chest. They'd come way too far to lose the kid now.

"It seems he disconnected his medication, and went for a stroll...ah, by which I mean he went for a...ride? His wheelchair's missing and he's nowhere in the hospital. Uh...the garden doors were open..."

All eyes turned to the office window instantly noting the pouring rain and the steadily rising gusts of wind.

Dean was the first to leave the office, Kathy hot on his heels, and sprinting towards his brother's room, the nurse's calls of "...orderlies out looking for him..." ringing in his ears.

_What the hell was he thinking?_

Stumbling into Sam's room, Dean soon confirmed it. The bed was empty, the sheets rumpled and IV lines were lying haphazardly across the sheets or hanging down the sides. His brother had completely disconnected himself from the monitors, antibiotics and all the other essential nutrients his body desperately needed, and gone for a joy ride in the damn wheelchair. The rain seemed especially loud in this room, or so it seemed to Dean and he raced over to the wide open French terrace windows.

"SAMMY!" Dean yelled angrily, then took off down the small path in search of his brother.

Kathy grabbed some blankets from the bed, swiped up a small oxygen tank and mask, then followed the irate guy out onto the lawn. Dean was turning round and round, eyes straining to see properly through the pouring rain, water cascading down his face.

"SAM! SAMMY?" He stomped off down the path, going deeper into the garden. The place was huge, had to be several acres at least and that was just the gardens. According to Kathy the grounds became a rose garden then eventually turned into wild, untamed grassland and ancient woodlands. She'd had several generous offers over the years from developers who wanted to turn the beautiful landscape into family homes, but she'd always refused. For a start she didn't need the money, having inherited a fortune from her grandfather many years before, but mainly just the thought that some small part of the natural world fell under her domain came as a great comfort. It was virtually untouchable and she'd even managed to take out some kind of protection order on the land so that even long after Kathy had passed away, it would still be here, unchanged and left at peace.

But right now, peace was the last word she would use to describe the gardens. Dean was yelling in fury, frantically searching every corner, every possible hiding place as though his younger brother were aged three rather than twenty three.

"Dean," Kathy called gently. "I really don't think he's going to be hiding under that wheel barrow. Come on," she passed him the oxygen tank, then hefted the blankets back up under her arm to keep them as dry as possible. "We've a lot of ground to cover," she spat out rain water, her hair a slopping mess by now.

It was taking too long and Dean was on the verge of panic when he spotted another path that headed through the rose garden and out the other side. Squinting into the distance, the rain dampened wooden roof of a small building caught his attention and he broke into a run, instincts screaming at him to get there fast. All anger had melted away by now to be replaced by the familiar adrenaline surge of fear and Dean raced through the rosebushes, tearing along the footpath. Already he could make out the entrance...and someone was sitting just inside, leaning heavily against it.

"SAM!"

He heard the pounding of feet along the now wet and soggy ground behind him and knew that Kathy was on the case.

"Sammy!" Dean put on another burst of speed, finally reached the building and collapsed to his knees in front his baby brother. "Hey! Open your eyes and look at me. Sam?"

Sam's eyes remained closed, brows pinched into a frown and he was breathing in short, fast, laboured pants. Air wheezed in and out as Sam struggled to fill his lungs, his face shiny with perspiration and unnatural heat rolled off him in waves.

"God Sammy, what the hell are ya doin' out here huh? Let's dry you off a little." Dean removed the soaking blanket from round his brother's shoulders, replacing it with the one that Kathy shoved at him, wrapping Sam up tightly and rubbing his arms.

Wasting no more time, Dean tilted his brother's head back, resting his neck in the palm of his hand to open his airway then slipped on the oxygen mask, whilst Kathy got to work checking his pulse and blood pressure with the small kit she carried with her.

Still gently cradling the back of Sam's neck and head with both hands, Dean's fingers brushed against damp curls and he whispered softly to his little brother, trying to wake him up. Sam let out a faint whimper of pain but his eyes didn't open.

"Come _on_ Sammy _please_, we need you to wake up little bro." Dean sensed the doctor's concern, could see the worried frown on her face in his peripheral vision, and it very suddenly re-fuelled his anger.

And he snapped. "You've come too damn far to pull this shit _ya hear me?_ I _won't_ let you give up! Ya think Dad wanted this for ya huh?" The rain pounded even louder on the roof and Dean had to shout to hear his own voice. "You hearin' me Sam? You're my brother and I love you. I'm not losing you to her, to Meg, or any other fucking demon. Sure, they can try but I WON'T let them win. I know I fucked up, but I WON'T let them get that close to you again I swear!" Dean's tirade ended in a heartfelt sob as he pressed his cheek against Sam's superheated skin, and whispered brokenly into his ear, "_I'msorrypleasecomeback I'msorrypleasecomeback I'm sorry I'm sorry..._"

A light squeeze on his arm caused Dean to pull back a little and he smiled in relief when he saw his brother's eyes slowly opening. Sam was staring at him, shivering, clearly dazed and trying to speak, his hand dropping weakly back into his lap.

"It's ok. Just stay still Sam." Dean tucked the blanket round him even closer. "You're real sick buddy but we're gonna have to wait it out here 'til the rain lets up." With a shaky smile he started rubbing Sam's arms through the blanket again. "I think you've taken on enough water for one day huh?"

"_Dean...ssoorryy..._" Sam started coughing violently into the mask and Dean's eyes widened with worry when he couldn't get his breath back. "_...ya don...hafta...s...stay..._"

"Sammy..." The meaning sunk in even if Dean did have a hard time hearing his brother's voice over the rain. He shook his head sadly and palmed Sam's face. "Not goin' anywhere without you kiddo. Now calm it down buddy, you need to breathe slowly."

Confused as he was, Sam nonetheless seemed to understand what was being asked of him and he sought to comply, a hard struggle though it was. The oxygen helped but the urge to cough up his lungs must have been tempting.

Kathy turned at the faint sound of her name being called; there was no one in the garden but people were out looking for her. "Dean, I have to go tell the orderlies we found Sam, and I'll also arrange for a covered gurney to collect him. We need to get those wet bandages changed before infection sets in. You two be ok here on your own?"

Dean pulled his wheezing, shivering brother closer and nodded grimly. "Sure."

"Alright." Kathy had one more thing to say before she headed off into the rain storm. "And stay out of trouble!" One final reassuring grin and she was gone.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Kathy watched the brothers from the door to Sam's room and smiled. The youngster had calmed down and seemed to improve under the watchful eye of his big brother. Dean had assisted the doctor with getting his brother dry, warmed up, and even changing his bandages. The wounds hadn't looked any worse in spite of the drenching, and even looked a little healthier.

Kathy had grinned at that; she had a list of diplomas, degrees and PhDs as long as her arm but she just couldn't compare to the awesome power of Mother Nature.

In the mad dash to get her patient out of the rain and wind, Dean, Kathy and the orderlies were a little worse for wear and the domestic staff were preparing hot meals and fresh dry uniforms for all.

Sam's temperature was dangerously high, the pneumonia flaring up, and Kathy had administered an anti-febrile drug in case of seizure along with humidified oxygen. The touch and go moment on arriving at his room had her considering the possibility of intubation, but Sam was trying hard to breathe on his own so Kathy decided to have a little faith in the poor kid.

The IV lines had been reattached, broad spectrum antibiotics slowly filtering their way into Sam's blood to help fight the pneumonia. Kathy had forced Dean to take an analgesic just in case he came down with a bad cold, and he now sat in a comfortable chair beside Sam's bed adorned in fresh hospital scrubs, blanket wrapped round him and talking so softly to his kid brother that Kathy would have strained her ears to listen if she hadn't appreciated their need for privacy.

Dinner would be served soon, and Kathy still had the rounds to do before then so she slipped silently from the room.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**He was back in that damn warehouse, running and screaming his brother's name. Sam's voice was all around him, whispering, rising and falling like the tide.**_

_...Did he say anything?..._

_...Can we talk about this?..._

_...Dean, please don't shut me out..._

_...too little too late..._

_...I'm not alright, not at all...but neither are you..._

_**He was so close yet so far, every time he turned a corner or entered another room he expected to find his brother, but it was always a false horizon. And yet still Sam's voice haunted him, now sounding scared, begging for help...**_

_**...then finally pleading for death.**_

_**A loud gunshot rang out and Dean stopped dead in his tracks, heart pounding in his chest. A few more tentative steps, another room, and he found what he was looking for.**_

_**Sam sat silently, secured to the chair in much the same way Dean had found him before, chin slumped to his chest, still gagged and blindfolded.**_

_**The dreadful smell of scorched flesh still hung in the air along with the copper of fresh blood and hot cordite; Dean gagged and nearly dry-retched. One more step and he was right in front of his little brother, cupping his bruised jaw and tilting his head up.**_

_**It was then that he saw the bullet hole right in the centre of Sam's forehead...**_

_...If you can't save him, you have to kill him..._

_**...the smoking gun in his own hand...**_

_...I'm not alright....but neither are you..._

_**...and Dean started screaming.**_

He jolted awake, shaking like a leaf and drawing in panicked breaths. A quick glance at his sleeping brother assured him that Sam was still here, still very much alive.

"Jesus Christ," Dean muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. The dream had seemed so real, _too_ real, and to suddenly have his father's words thrown in his face by his own sub-conscious was downright cruel. Dean wasn't ready to deal with that just yet and he was in _no way_ ready to tell Sam about it. But that dream..._was that me? Did I kill Sam? Is that what this is about?_

Well it wasn't going to happen. _Ever_. Dean would rather take his own life than kill his brother.

_Except...he almost died 'cos of me. Maybe that's the whole point..._

"Dean?"

The low painful rasp of his brother's voice interrupted his thoughts and Dean turned to Sam, smiling softly, hoping all evidence of that terrible dream had faded from his face.

"Hey little bro. How ya feelin'?"

Sam appeared to think for a moment before answering. He nodded slowly.

"Been better, but at least I can breathe properly now." The kid was on nasal oxygen which came as a relief to both brothers. The fever had broken during the early hours of the morning which was why Dean had finally allowed himself some sleep, though he was starting to regret it. The nightmare was still vivid, the image of his brother tied to a chair, beaten, tortured...._dead..._

"You ok Dean?" Sam was looking at him worriedly.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face distractedly and blew out a breath. "Yeah. Yeah I'm good."

"You sure? You look a little pale. You been getting any sleep?" Dean glanced at Sam's own sickly features and refrained from suggesting he take a look in the mirror.

Instead he suddenly leaned forward, elbows on the bed and gave his brother a genuinely happy smile. After all, he had a lot to feel grateful for. Sam was recovering slowly but surely when he could have died so many times: in the warehouse, the demon drugs, during the flight to the ER, from shock, from the burns, the pneumonia,..

Yeah, there was a lot to be thankful for and Dean never was one to miss an opportunity.

"I'm just glad to have you back kiddo. You scared the shit outta me." His smile faded slightly as his eyes searched Sam's face. "I've said this so many damn times since we found you in the warehouse, but each time you were either unconscious or out of it from drugs and fever." Dean locked eyes with Sam, voice desperate now. "I never wanted you to leave. And I don't mean just this time round but the last time, when you went off to school. I know why you had to, I even understood back then but I hated seeing you go and I missed you _so damn much_. I'm sorry I've been such a jerk since Dad died, and I'm sorry that I didn't even notice you were hurting too. 'Course, I didn't exactly make things easier on ya by telling you to leave, but I never meant it Sam. I swear, I was just being an asshole, I felt so _angry..."_

"I know." Sam whispered back sadly. "And...I know why you're angry. He died, but I lived."

Dean stared at him, completely thunderstruck.

"It's ok Dean, I know how much you worshipped him. I understand what he meant to you, what you lost." Sam sniffed, no longer able to look his brother in the eye. "And I'm sorry too. This whole thing would have been easier on you if I'd died in his place."

He could feel Dean's gaze still on him, the atmosphere suddenly supercharged with an emotion Sam couldn't identify.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

Me thinks Dean's going to have a hard time keeping his temper on this one. But can we really blame Sam for thinking that way after all he's been through? Maybe, maybe not.

I'll leave it for you to decide.

Not too sure about American heritage laws when it comes to protecting land and ancient woodlands so I just made it up. It's more fun that way anyhow.

Cheer for all your fantastic reviews once again, and I promise lots of brotherly heartache and love to follow for those fellow angst junkies out there, but let me also reassure you there is still an actual plot going on, and I suppose you could say it runs sort of parallel to BUABS but my version is way better for us LimpSammy/Protective Dean fans.

So be patient, stay with me and I promise you won't regret it.

If you do however then may you spank me 'til my cheeks burn red.

Kind regards,

ST xxx


	7. Chapter 7

**Back For Good Chapter 7**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_I know why you're angry. He died, but I lived._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean clenched and unclenched his fists.

_Do not hit the sick and injured, do not hit the sick and injured..._

Heart breaking and taking a long, slow deep breath, he stood up and leaned over the bed. "Shut up Sam." Dean was all smiles and pleasantry.

Sam raised his head slowly, eyes widening. "Wha?" He didn't like that smile at all. That smile was the lull just before the storm. Oh yeah, Dean was _pissed _alright.

"Sam?" Dean was still smiling even if his voice sounded a little like it was fashioned out of nails. "It's _real_ important to your recovery that you never say anything like that again."

"Dean..."

"Seriously," Dean actually sounded quite cheerful by now, but Sam wasn't fooled for a second. "Keep it up and I'll strangle you with your own oxygen tube..."

"Look I understand..."

"You really can't take a hint can ya?" Dean suddenly got right in Sam's face, the tentative control over his temper starting to slip. "_You take it back!"_ He hissed and Sam squirmed, shifting backwards, trying to lose himself in the pillows. "_You take it back right __**now**__!_"

Sam gulped fearfully. "I..."

"Don't you get it? I could _never_ trade you!" Dean's eyes suddenly sparkled with unshed tears and his voice quivered with anger. "Not even for Dad. I want him back Sam, and I miss him so damn much it hurts like hell, but if it means losing you then _no way!_ I don't know what to say or do to convince you and after what's happened I guess I can't blame ya, but know this." Eyes dark with anguish, Dean gently pressed his hands to either side of Sam's neck, just behind his ears; the only place the demon _hadn't_ hurt him. "I don't care what it takes and I don't care what I have to do to protect you. If it means locking you up somewhere you'll be safe or skipping the damn country _I'll do it!_"

The room fell into a shocked silence as the brothers stared at one another.

Even after everything, all the pain and torment, the losses, the violence, neither one of them could bring themselves to talk about the obvious.

Clearly John _had_ made a trade. His life for Dean's. Sam suspected it and Dean knew it.

Finally Sam understood Dean's pain. It wasn't about _him_ but Sam had been the nearest target; Dean was struggling to cope with their father's decision and it was slowly killing him. Guilt and remorse had eaten a hole in his heart and he'd lashed out at his brother, hitting Sam where it hurt most then kept right on pounding, pushing him away.

It became a test to see if Sam really would stay the distance or go back to his normal life.

_If Dean would really be left all alone._

But he hadn't expected his brother's reaction or the note he'd left before taking Dean at his word.

Sam had gone for the difficult third option. _Really_ gone, but not back to Stanford and that had to be proof in itself. Sam was hunting with Dean because he _wanted_ to, not because he _had_ to or out of some stupid sense of loyalty to their late father, though that was probably a small part of it. And Dean couldn't bring himself to blame Sam for that.

Sam fixed Dean with a sad gaze, eyes welling up. "I'm sorry Dean. I didn't get it 'til now." He sniffed and blinked back the tears as he finally read between the lines, "I don't wanna lose you either."

A small smile was forming on Dean's face, one that reached his eyes this time. "Then that's something we both agree on." He gave Sam's neck a gentle squeeze. "Get some sleep, and when you wake up I'll bring you some dinner. And Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam peered nervously up at him from beneath his long fringe and Dean felt his heart clench at just how young and uncertain he appeared.

_I've gotta wipe that look off his face someday soon._ But it was time to make an attempt at normality. For Sam's sake.

"You better eat it this time. Unlike the scrambled eggs you pushed round the plate yesterday morning. You do realise the effort that goes into laying one of those things right?"

Sam broke out in a tired but genuine grin. "Any one would think _you_ laid it!"

Dean shrugged. "Nah, but I nearly had kittens when you went missing." But he was grinning back as he said it. "Much more painful."

"And much more unlikely," Sam nodded, still grinning. "I just don't see you with kittens. You're not a cat kinda guy."

"Unless it was a tiger." Dean suddenly looked thoughtful. "Now that would be cool. Seriously bro, no one would bother trying to steal the car with an oversized moggy sprawled out across the backseat."

Sam snorted, nose twitching in amusement. "Aside from the fact its food bill would be even bigger than yours, I'm allergic to cats and you wouldn't stand the hair for long. I'd give it a day before you kicked the big pussy cat out on the street for shedding."

"Cat that size? Nah. He'd chew on my ass!"

"So no tiger then?"

"No tiger." Dean nodded in agreement, but then his eyes lit up in a way that had Sam worried. "How 'bout a python?"

Sam rolled his eyes in amusement.

"We could wrap it round the steering wheel; call it Monty and train it to hiss at passing strangers." Dean continued, really in his element now. This was possibly the most ridiculous conversation the brothers had ever shared.

"Yeah right Dean," Sam drawled sarcastically, tugging lightly at the canular under his nose. "Maybe we could teach it latin."

"Why not? According to the Bible snakes can speak English." Dean threw back triumphantly.

Sam's automatic smart assed retort was cut off and he did a double-take. "Huh? Dean..." he shook his head. "Where in hell did that come from?"

"Easy," His older brother looked smug. "The snake in the Garden of Eden spoke to Eve. First case of theft in human history when he talked her into taking a bite of the apple. If you believe that stuff o'course."

Sam stared up at him, eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Youread the Bible? No. I'm not going there. That's too damn scary." Another shake of the head and he yawned, listening to Dean's quiet chuckle. "On that rather chilling note I'm gonna take up your suggestion and get some sleep."

"Aw Sammy..." Still grinning and pulling the covers up to Sam's chin, Dean brushed the hair out of Sam's eyes. His grin faded as he took in the dark circles and pinched pain-lines around his little brother's mouth, reminding him of the horrors Sam had been through recently. "We ok Sam?"

Sam's eyes had already drifted shut, but he smiled faintly. "Yeah. I'm glad you're here Dean."

Listening to his kid brother's breathing even out, his features relaxing, Dean settled back in his arm chair with the intention of taking a light doze before dinner. But his own exhaustion soon caught up with him and he slipped into a deep sleep, content that the last member of his family was safe and alive beside him.

Kathy knocked softly on the door to Sam's room but when she received no answer she pushed it opened and smiled at the sight of the two brothers snoozing away peacefully. Sam lay on his side facing Dean and drooling into his pillow, whilst the older brother was slouched in the arm chair, head back and tilted to the side. In addition a sound very similar to a buzz saw seemed to be emanating from his gaping mouth and Kathy winced in sympathy at the likelihood of a sore throat. She couldn't understand why he still refused to use the twin bed on the far side of the room, especially now Sam was more or less out of danger, but he always preferred to reside in the arm chair by his brother. He never seemed comfortable being more than a few feet away from Sam for any great length of time and Kathy could only imagine the hell he must have been going through in the three days he'd spent outside the room.

After draping a warm blanket over the older Winchester, Kathy silently left, still smiling in amusement.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

And so it continued, the brothers settling their differences, clearing the air and a few more of their ridiculous conversations had them laughing. But Dean was beginning to pick up on something; Sam was deeply troubled and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get him to talk about it.

Sam at least admitted something was wrong but he didn't elaborate further except to say that he felt..._out of sorts._ It was the only way he could or would describe it. Discussing it with Dr Grey helped put their minds at ease for a while.

"When you were brought in you were sick, injured, heavily drugged and badly traumatised, so give yourself a break. Your system underwent a massive shock Sam, and it's not going to resume normal working order over night."

"Yeah but..."

Dean elbowed him gently. "She's right dude. Just take it easy. We'll get through this."

Sam sighed heavily and nodded. "Ok." His feet itched and he fought the urge to scratch, not that it would've helped ease it much with the thick bandaging still holding his legs prisoner.

But it became obvious that same night the boys had a real problem.

Dean woke up to the sound of someone desperately sobbing in fear and sat up quickly.

"Sammy?" He whispered. Sam was shaking from head to toe, legs and arms thrashing at some unseen enemy and his cries for help grew louder the harder he fought. "It's ok kiddo. Just a bad dream that's all." Gently holding him still and whispering calming words seemed to work after a while and Sam soon settled down without even waking up, but it had Dean worried. His brother was freezing cold and he only hoped it was just down to the nightmare.

"Come on dude, lets getcha warmed up." Dean climbed onto the bed lifting Sam up a little, sliding in behind him and wrapping his arms round his waist. Resting his chin on his brother's head, Dean eventually managed to get some more sleep and Sam didn't stir again.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"How you feeling today Sam?" Kathy was pleased to note he was happily chewing on his bacon with some considerable gusto and briefly suspected his brother was responsible for the renewed appetite. Dean had informed her of Sam's nightmares and the kid did seem tired, but he had _many_ valid excuses for that.

Sam grinned sheepishly. "Great! Dean was right about the food here. Can't believe I didn't try it sooner."

"Well, you weren't exactly feeling one hundred per cent so you can be forgiven." Kathy had a twinkle in her eye. "Although the chef is still sulking over those eggs."

"You've been talking to Dean right?" Sam replied with an eye roll.

The doctor chuckled and inserted a tympanic thermometer into Sam's ear. "That guy sure does like his food huh?"

Sam nodded carefully. "Yup you can say that again. I'll just bet he's best friends with all the kitchen staff."

On checking the readout Kathy stepped back a little, fingers prodding carefully at Sam's neck glands. "He plays poker with them every Saturday night." She frowned slightly. "That hurt at all Sam?" And pressed a little more firmly.

"Uhuh a little. Why? Something wrong?" Sam watched her wide eyed, heart beating a little faster. As much as he liked the place, definitely an improvement on some of the motels he'd stayed in over the years, Sam was looking forward to getting out and hitting the road with his brother, but if some other health issue came up that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. Staying cooped up in this room was screwing with his mind and on more than one occasion he'd woken up screaming, fully believing he was back in that warehouse, trussed up and unable to move. And the dreams were becoming more vivid as time went on.

"Your temperature's gone back up a little and your glands are swollen."

Kathy made a few check marks on Sam's chart along with some brief notes. The kid was still hooked up to a cardiac monitor and seemed to be doing just fine. His lungs were healing well as were many of the injuries including his feet. The grafts had taken nicely and had so far stood the test of time, and his hands and fingers were no longer bound up which came as considerable relief to the youngster. He could now type properly and was often to be found sitting up in bed tapping away at the brand new lap top Bobby had brought by a few days ago. But Sam still had a long way to go; his body was still recovering from the enforced drugs as well as the severe weight loss during his bad bout of pneumonia.

"Well, it's probably nothing but I don't want to take any chances. You're recovering well and the last thing you need is a dose of flu." More scribbling on his chart. "It's back to the antibiotics for you I'm afraid, just to boost your immune response in case something nasty tries to creep in."

"Why what's wrong?" Dean appeared in the doorway frowning deeply, eyes darting between Sam and his doctor. "Sam?"

"Dean its ok," Sam smiled at the slight panic on his brother's face. "I feel fine, just a little tired."

"I'd say it's a mild viral infection," Kathy huffed on her stethoscope to warm it up. "Lift up your shirt for me?" When Sam complied she carried on explaining. "You've been through a lot and your immune system's taken a pounding. That combined with your little adventure in the rose garden last week and I'm not really surprised. Take a deep breath for me? And out? That's good...and relax." She unhooked the stethoscope from her ears and stared steadily at her patient until he grew uncomfortable and began to squirm. "You need to take it easy Sam, and that _literally_ means complete and total bed rest. No arguments and no exceptions. Any more complications could screw up the skin grafts and I really don't want to have to put you through all that again." Her stern gaze shot to Dean who straightened up, meeting her gaze and nodding. Sam noticed his jaw clenched stubbornly, and realised that between his brother and his doctor they would likely chain him to the bed if necessary.

But he just _couldn't_ stay here any longer. He needed get out and the very thought of being kept here...like a prisoner...unable to leave...

His arms actually began to tingle, as though they could still feel the ropes; the tingling became painful and he started rubbing them. His gaze darted round the room, seeing the walls darkening to a dingy, familiar grey, closing in, trapping him, and suddenly he was back in the warehouse tied tightly to the chair...

Dean raised an eyebrow and Kathy starting frowning when Sam's breathing picked up speed.

"But...I'll go insane stuck here!" Sam actually sounded like he was starting to panic, and it wasn't funny. "I c-can't stay here! Dean please! I have to get out of this r-room! Please...let me _go_. Can't...have to..._ can't!"_

"Whoa! Sam calm down." Dean crouched back down, talking softly to his little brother and brushing a hand through his hair. Sam's eyes were wide and glassy with fear, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and suddenly Dean understood. _Oh kiddo..._

"Dean...have to get _outta_ here..._please_." Sam eyes were darting round the room as if searching for an out. "Can't be trapped here..."

"Sssshhhh its ok Sammy." Dean turned worried eyes on the doc. "Kathy..." he pleaded.

She nodded in understanding, left the room for a moment then came back and perched on the edge of Sam's bed, carefully inserting something into Sam's IV line. "Calm down sweetheart. You've been through a lot I know, but you're not a prisoner here, just a patient or guest. Treat your stay like a vacation; just some time out. So how about this," She reached out and touched a finger to Sam's jaw and gently tilted his head so she could see his eyes, which were gradually calming, his shoulder muscles relaxing. "Once we get your temperature down you and Dean come and eat your meals in the restaurant each day, most of the other patients eat there and some of them are real nice people. And the weather's starting to clear up, so maybe your brother could take you out to the garden. I could arrange for some picnic food for you both, and if you promise to wrap up nice and warm there's even a Safari and Conservation centre a few miles down the road. It's a great place to relax and there's plenty to see. Takes more than one visit to see it all though, easily; it's a fascinating place and might even keep your brother from getting bored." She smiled when the fear in Sam's eyes began to recede. "It's not much but it gets you out of this room for long periods."

Sam dared to look hopeful. "Really? I won't have to stay here all the time?"

Kathy shrugged. "Once you've got some strength back and that viral infection's cleared up, then no. Like I said. You're not a prisoner here; we're just trying to give you the greatest chance at recovery." She patted his cheek affectionately. "Now, I'm gonna make arrangements for those preventative antibiotics; the sooner you get started on those the sooner you'll start to feel better. Dean could I have a word?"

Dean nudged his little brother and handed over the TV remote. "You be ok here Sam?"

Sam rolled his eyes, feeling his heart beat settling down. "I'm sure I won't need my diaper changed anytime soon, dude."

Dean smirked. "Point taken."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"I was worried this might happen." Kathy frowned and chewed on a fingernail.

"_What _might happen?" Dean was leaning against the wall outside Sam's room, and the look on Kathy's face seriously had him worried. "Sam's alright aint he?"

She nodded. "Oh yeah, don't get me wrong. You're brother's doing well, but he's nowhere near ready to leave, not until the grafts have fully healed up."

"How much longer will he have to stay?" Dean pushed away from the wall and peeked through the gap in the door. Sam was watching TV with his eyes half closed, looking about ready to fall asleep again.

Kathy made a clicking noise with her tongue as she considered her answer. "I would have said at least another month, but if he _is_ getting sick again it could be longer. He needs to build up his strength first but this is all taking so much longer than expected."

Dean nodded slowly. "Those drugs...the pain inducers? It's down to them right?"

"I'm afraid so." Kathy smiled sadly. "We just don't fully understand what they did to him. And that's another thing that worries me. I think your brother is suffering from depression."

"What?" Dean straightened up in shock.

"It's not all that surprising is it? He was abducted and tortured. And think of his behaviour recently, after discovering all that and more. Your father's death, you telling him to leave..." Dean flinched at that but didn't comment. "And you tell me his girlfriend died right in front of him last year? Oh yeah. It's depression alright."

Then she mentioned the big bad word.

"Have you put any thought into counselling?"

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. If it had been anyone other than Kathy making that suggestion he might have pitched a right royal fit, but he could see where she was going with this and Sam did indeed need help; trouble was Dean didn't think he could be the one to offer it.

"That's a little tricky." Closing his eyes briefly Dean wondered how to approach this. "Sam and I...well, we haven't exactly led a normal existence. There's been..._things_...in our past that most people wouldn't believe if we tried to explain."

Kathy stood by quietly as Dean continued. "I'm just worried what would happen to Sam if that got out. Last thing he needs is to be locked up in a psychiatric ward, especially now."

"That won't happen." Kathy's voice sounded firm and determined. "As for a normal existence and these _things_ from your past? I assume you're referring to _things that go bump in the night_?" His head snapped up in shock to witness her slight smile. "Dean, there's something you should know about this place."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Essentially it went like this. Kathy's paternal grandfather had also been a doctor and started the residential unit not long after returning home from the Second World War. Of course, American troops hadn't been the only casualties; supernatural activity had been on the increase during the height of the war, and the bigger the body count the greater and more heartbreaking the events. The idea of astral projection had been laughed at more than once but it soon became no laughing matter as the spirits of dead soldiers and pilots returned home long before their loved ones even received notice of their demise. To make matters worse, during the fear and heartbreak of such troubled times, it became apparent that spiritual contact wasn't the only supernatural activity.

Demons.

Demons were at large, preying on the conflicts and torturing the minds of the emotionally weak and vulnerable, aiding the enemy. Though there were no official records by the end of the war it was estimated that more than half the dead had come into contact with a demonic influence at some point.

"_Jesus_!" Dean ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Like they didn't have enough problems." He should have guessed that the Winchesters encounters with demons weren't the first the world had witnessed, that more people had been involved. And what a better time than a world war? When people were desperate and fearful, and had everything to lose.

Kathy nodded, watching him closely. "Yup. And post-war things only got worse. Britain and most of Europe were virtually bankrupt, food was still being rationed well into the fifties, and everyone was too busy dealing with their losses to notice what was going on in the background. The demons essentially got away with it because the rest of the world wasn't going to believe that something out of a Christopher Lee movie was responsible for the chaos." She shrugged, sadly amused by that thought. "They much preferred to think it was down to humans than a being of legend and mythology. Can't say I blame them really."

Dean smirked a little. "So Hitler? What was he? Demon or human?" The question was more of a grim joke so he was surprised when she answered him in all seriousness.

Kathy shrugged again. "No one knows for sure," but her eyes remained gleaming and steady on his, and _so damn truthful_ _that Dean felt completely unnerved_, "but it's telling that his body and that of Eva Braun were rumoured to have been burnt after they took their own lives..." Kathy's head tilted slightly. "Don't you think?" She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

A shiver ran down his spine and Dean nodded grimly. _Salt and burn perhaps? _And that led him onto wondering who within the last days of the Third Reich would have known about it.

"So what did your grandfather have to do with all this? Did he become a hunter after the war?"

"No. But his childhood friend did and was nearly killed and badly maimed during a sabotaged exorcism." Kathy explained. "It was then that my Grandfather set up this program to help hunters take a break and recover or in some cases to retire completely. It was completely off the grid and not many people knew what it was really for. There aren't so many staying here anymore, not like years ago when our father brought us back here from Rhodesia, but some of the residents were hunters at one stage or other."

Dean was silent for a long moment before asking "And you have someone in mind to help Sam. A retired hunter? Your granddad's old friend perhaps?"

"You catch on quick."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

His name was Andrew Darcy, retired hunter, qualified counsellor and aged about...oh, maybe one hundred and fifty thousand years old? Still, the old buzzard was kind enough and that gleam of intelligence in his tired blue eyes assured Dean this guy knew what he was talking about. And Darcy was a great story teller, his deep voice the kind that made you sit up and pay attention.

It emerged that he'd served with the Royal Canadian Air Force during the Battle Of Britain and Dean was instantly fascinated; Darcy spoke of dogfights high in the skies over the English Channel, Spitfire verses Messerschmitt, in probably one of the most famous and prolific air battles known to history.

Dean was terrified of flying but even he couldn't fail to be drawn into the excitement and danger of a world at war, though Darcy didn't sugar coat or pretend that it was anything other than what it truly was: a time of fear, of living day to day and not knowing if it was going to be your last....

_...he could almost hear the horrifying screams of Stuka dive bombers as the __Luftwaffe descended__, the loud 'Jericho Trumpet' wailing sirens designed to instil sheer terror..._

Yeah, Dean could identify with that. Way too much in fact.

But he really wanted to get on to the subject of Sam. He'd put this on hold for the last week and now he was here he felt anxious to get on with it.

Darcy wasn't a man to be rushed, would get there in his own time and Dean had to trust there was a point to all this.

"So, your brother...captured and tortured by a demon huh?"

Apparently he was ready and Dean blinked at the sudden change of topic. "Yeah, that's about the size of it."

Darcy leaned back on the bench and rubbed at the join on his wooden leg. They were seated in the garden, not far from Sam's room; it was a peaceful day, a few sparrows fluttering in the hedgerows and swallows swooping and diving under the eaves.

"He know about this?" Darcy raised a shaggy eyebrow and pointed between the two of them as he puffed on his pipe, the smoke tendrils drifting and curling softly in the air. Dean could smell spices and maybe brandy and it was actually rather relaxing.

"Nope. I'm gonna talk to him after dinner tonight." Dean eyed the old guy as he casually blew a smoke ring.

"Hmmph." Was all Darcy had to say and the two of them sat in silence for a while before he spoke again. "Don't push him into it; let him come to me on his own. Let _Sam_ make that decision."

Dean snorted, the sound almost harsh. "I leave that to him and trust me it'll _never_ happen. We weren't raised to think about all that touchy feely crap." _Whoa Dean! Hypocrite much?_

"You think I _was_ boy? And just what would you expect from him? What do you want him to _achieve_ exactly?" Dean looked a little startled at the gruff, almost angry response. "This aint the usual run of the mill trauma; Sam was terrorised and subjected to the utmost pain and humiliation at the hands of pure eviland he needs help, sure, but he also needs you on his side not against him."

"But I..." Dean didn't get to finish now that Darcy was in his element.

"You push him before he's ready to move on and trust_ me _that's exactly where he'll see you. Against him, not with him. The last thing he needs is to be bullied." Darcy's voice grew gentler and less angry when he spoke next. "If you wanna help him then use persuasion, appeal to his strengths not weaknesses. Don't go at him like a bull in a china shop. He's had enough of that; Sam's trying to take back all control that damn demon stole from him and he needs you to help 'im do it. There are way too many families out there coulda used that help sixty years ago." He finished softly, "So let 'im, son. Just let 'im."

Those elderly blue eyes were staring hard into the depths of Dean's soul and it was impossible not to agree.

"Ok." Dean nodded slowly.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

My sincere apologies go out to anyone that might find my take on Hitler and World War 2 offensive. That was not my intention at all; I just wanted to take a little risk and try something new in this story. This wasn't done gratuitously; Darcy is actually partly integral to the shit I'm piling on the boys next and his history, along with Kathy's explanation, is merely a back story. The war itself is not really a part of the plot; just a messenger, if you will.

I have no training in counselling so don't expect too much. I'm just guessing!

Many thanks again for all your wonderful reviews.

Kind regards,

ST xxx


	8. Chapter 8

**Back For Good Chapter 8**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**About a week later...**_

"Boss? The Winchesters are in the house again tonight." Smithson the sous-chef announced cheerily.

All work ground to a brief halt in the kitchens, each worker eagerly awaiting instructions.

Trent Satie, the head chef, grinned from ear to ear and clapped his hands together with happy enthusiasm. "Right! I want fresh lasagne, my grandmother's recipe – _yes_ Tina it's in the book on the _shelf_!" He rolled his eyes, mildly frustrated with his trainee. She was a great kid but a little slow sometimes. Still, at least she was a hard worker which was more than could be said for the _last_ one that blew through his kitchens. Trent had to chase the little bastard out with a rolling pin. "Bring me fresh tomatoes, and buffalo mozzarella, fresh basil...I said _fresh_ tomatoes for Christ sake Mark, _now put that bloody tin back."_

Trent was a good natured Australian who'd developed quite a fondness for the Winchesters. He'd only recently met the younger brother since being allowed out of bed, but he'd played poker with Dean on more than one occasion and each time Dean was happy to be used as a guinea pig for any new recipes Trent was keen to try out. In fact the older brother was indirectly responsible for at least half the new dishes on the menu.

Sam was quietly friendly when introduced to the head chef almost to the point of shy, and Trent had instantly liked the kid. So whenever the Winchesters dined in the restaurant they always received a personal visit by the chef with all dishes freshly cooked by his own hand.

A loud crash broke the chef out of his musings. "Get that bloody mess cleaned up _now!_" Shaking his head he muttered under his breath "_Dozy bastards."_

Bloody shame really, he thought later, that he hadn't paid closer attention.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam settled back contentedly into his wheelchair and rubbed his belly with a tired grin. He dodged a bullet as far as getting flu was concerned, proper Italian lasagne had never tasted so good and not having to zap every morsel of food in a microwave was definitely agreeing with him. Trent was a great chef and Sam was kind of glad he'd been more or less forced to stay on at the convalescence home. Life was good. The only blot on the landscape were the nightmares and Sam just didn't know what to do about them.

Dean was unusually quiet this evening and Sam frowned worriedly when nearly all attempts to make conversation fell on deaf and distracted ears. Even the other guests gave up after a while which was a shame. Since eating in the restaurant over the last few days, Sam was beginning to relax and enjoy himself and the people around them were fairly cool, interesting types; in fact Sam had the strangest feeling about some of them...

"Hey Dean...come on man, something's wrong." Sam urged his brother. "Talk to me?"

Dean glanced up in bewilderment. "Huh? Oh...sorry bro. Miles away." And that was bad, Dean reflected. It was the not talking and shutting Sam out that put them in this mess in the first place. "Listen Sam, when we get back to the room there's something I wanna talk to you about."

Sam looked a little nervous. "What exactly?"

"S'nothing to worry about, ok? Just eat your desert and we'll talk later." Dean threw him a casual grin when his little brother continued looking worried. He grabbed his own spoon, dug into the chocolate mousse and after a few mouthfuls gave Sam a chocolate-grin complete with moustache. Sam rolled his eyes, laughing.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The journey back from the restaurant was a little more jovial with Dean pushing Sam's wheelchair at a run, his kid brother laughing loudly until one of the nurses appeared from a patient's room and shushed them.

"Sorry Nora. We'll try to keep it down." Dean grinned cheekily.

"See that you do!" Nora smiled and shook her head good naturedly before returning to her patient.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Sam tried to keep the fear out of his voice but he wasn't too successful. He had the nasty feeling he wasn't going to like this.

_Maybe Dean's bored. I'm gonna be bedridden for a long while, and maybe he's gonna take off on a hunt._ Sam felt his heart pound with anxiety with the thought of his brother hunting alone again.

Dean helped Sam back into bed before he sat down on the edge of the mattress and took a deep breath.

"Uh...Kathy made a suggestion 'bout a week ago, something that might help you." Dean cleared his throat nervously. "Now Sam, before I say anything understand that no one's gonna try and force you to do anything you don't want. Ok?"

Dean's eyes locked with his.

"Uh...ok." Sam nodded uncertainly.

"Your nightmares, we think it's down to post-traumatic stress, and they're getting worse bro; Kathy says there's a trained counsellor on site that might be able to help you." Dean watched Sam's face closely. "Well, what do you think? It's not forever, just 'til you can sleep easier at night and after that if you wanna keep on seeing him then that's fine by me."

Sam glanced away but not before Dean saw the shame creep over his face. "Am I really that messed up?" He asked softly, voice shaking slightly.

_Shit._ "_No_...not at all...dude look at me." Dean waited for Sam to reluctantly meet his gaze once more. "Sammy you're not a mess, ok? But you've been through an ordeal that a lesser man couldn't have survived. Those drugs were damn near lethal and your feet...when I found you your feet were like raw steak and the shock alone should have killed you. But you stayed strong and held on long enough for us to find you."

Sam stared at him, eyes looking just a little moist but he said nothing.

"The counsellor's a retired hunter if that helps, so no worrying about letting loose any weird secrets."

At the surprise on Sam's face Dean explained about Kathy's Grandfather. It took some time but the kid looked a little more relaxed by the end.

"Wow." Sam's eyebrows shot up. "So most of the other _guests_ here are either injured or retired hunters? That's...that's _incredible_." A funny look came over Sam's face when he looked at Dean. "You've already spoken to this guy, huh?"

Dean adopted his celebrated 'dear caught in the headlights' routine when he realised Sam was on to him, then nodded and sighed. "Sorry dude; I just didn't wanna pressure you. He's alright. I like him." _I trust him_ was unspoken but obvious.

The brothers appeared to be watching each other closely; whilst Dean was looking for anger at his own presumptuousness, Sam was checking that his brother was telling him everything.

"You don't have to make a decision right away Sam, just promise me you'll think about it." Dean added as an afterthought, "I just want you to get some peace of mind back. And if you won't do it for yourself, then please...do it for me." Another pause and when he spoke again Sam knew without hesitation he was telling the truth. "I'm worried about you kiddo. You don't deserve this."

Nodding slowly, Sam bit his lip, more than a little touched by his brother's deep concern. "Ok. I promise I'll think about it, so long as you sleep in an actual _bed_ tonight." His own concerned gaze swept over Dean, taking in the arm chair. "I know that chair's comfortable dude, but you need to sleep in a proper bed or it'll kill your back."

Dean grinned. "It's a deal." Pulling the covers up to Sam's chin and ruffling his hair a little, he got up and headed into the adjoining bathroom. "Gonna take a shower before I hit the hay. You get some sleep. Gotta long day ahead tomorrow."

"Why? What we got planned?" Sam replied, yawning widely.

"It's a surprise!" Dean's eyes flashed mischievously just as he disappeared behind the bathroom door.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Hey Dr Grey! That hamper you asked for s'nearly ready. Tina's just finishing off the sandwiches. I cooked all bloody night so they'd better like it!" Trent called out happily when Kathy poked her head though the swing door. "And make sure you wash your hands before entering my kitchen woman!"

He grinned at the chagrined look on her face and offered her a prawn vol-au-vent from the tray. There was a small birthday celebration later on for one of the other residents and Trent took great pride in the catering for such events, but knowing Kathy as well as he did there was a more than reasonable chance she hadn't eaten yet.

"So the Winchester boys are eating ok? No problems?" Dr Grey bit into the flaky pastry and groaned with pleasure.

"Need you ask?" Trent threw a dish cloth at her head and chuckled. "Yep, Sam's plate never stays full for long and as for Dean I don't think the dude even bothers chewing."

"That doesn't surprise me," Kathy laughed. "Sam oughta enter his brother into one of those pie-eating contests. The guy would win hands down. But what really annoys me is how he never gains a single pound! I so much as _look_ at a cream slice and I puff out like a blow fish!"

"Fast metabolism." Trent replied knowledgably, expert in all things food-related. "I got this cousin in Brisbane? Eats like half a cow every day...still light as a feather...bastard."

Tina packed away the last of the fresh warm sandwiches and closed the lid of the hamper, a discreet predatory smile on her face. The mindless chatter between the doc and the chef provided adequate cover to complete her task, and everyone else was too busy to watch her. Catching a slight glimpse of her face reflected in a copper cooking pot hanging from above the work bench, her eyes flickered black for a just a second.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"So have you spoken to him?"

Dean nodded. "Yep. I'm not getting my hopes up but he agreed to think about it."

"That's great news." Feeling Dean's scepticism Kathy smiled. "Sam will make the right decision, I'm sure of it. No matter how uncomfortable the treatment, he knows it'll give him what he needs. And besides, even if he only sits and listens to Darcy droning on about his old war stories that might just be enough. You can't help but love the guy for it."

"Dean?" Sam appeared at the doorway in his wheelchair, washed, dressed and glancing between his brother and doctor. It was obvious from the atmosphere they'd been talking about him, but Sam didn't make an issue of it. Dean and Kathy had grown close and it was a friendship Sam felt sure Dean was thriving on. The doctor was caring, trustworthy and kind to all her patients, but particularly the Winchesters; Dean had been just as much in need of support as his brother and Sam was more than grateful Kathy was able to provide it.

"You ready kid?" Dean shook off his worry and smiled a little too brightly.

"Uh...sure. You gonna tell me where we're going?"

"Nope. You'll find out soon enough."

"Here." Kathy handed over a basket and Dean gripped it, surprised at the weight. "Some home cooked food, courtesy of our chef. He told me to advise you about the _special_ cake." She winked at Sam's clear bewilderment but Dean caught the message. _Sam's favourite: blackberry cheesecake._ "He also said to tell Bobby, and I quote, 'he's kicking his red neck ass at Black Jack tomorrow night, and by the way will he be joining you boys for dinner?'"

Dean chuckled. Kathy's accent fashioned around American phrase somehow never failed to amuse him. "I'll be sure to pass on the message." He grabbed the back of Sam's chair. "Come on runt, let's get you loaded up."

"You're calling _me_ runt? Huh. Taller than you dude."

"Not in that chair you aint."

"Not with several inches burned off my _feet_ ya mean." Sam replied sardonically.

"Not funny Sam."

"Uh come on, it's a little funny."

And Dean felt just a little bit lighter hearing his brother's sense of humour make a comeback, even if it _was_ a bit sick.

Kathy shook her head at the good natured bickering and headed off to complete her rounds.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Hurrying along the hallway from the restaurant, Tina was fighting and bucking all the way but Meg was the victor. Riding her mind like a parasite, the demon chuckled and swooped in on the young woman's memories, destroying her morale, her will to live.

The wards, sigils and even the devils traps had little effect; Meg had entered the hospital as easy as...well, walking through the door. No one had suspected her, having inhabited the trainee's body since she met her in a bar the previous night. It took a while to track them down but with the right locator spells, and a little bit of trickery, Meg soon discovered the Sanctuary. What made it harder was most hunters didn't know about it unless they became seriously injured; maybe not even John Winchester had known. The demons had known about its existence for decades, scouring the Earth in a terrifying fury for the one place they couldn't find, couldn't _see_.

The one place where injured and vulnerable hunters were taken and protected, unseen and sheltered from all the occupants of hell.

Meg watched dispassionately as Tina choked and gasped on her own blood, admiring her handiwork. The girl had been useful but now she needed someone else, someone that could get closer to the Winchesters without arousing suspicion. Bobby was a no go as was the doctor - Dean knew them too well by now and would know something was wrong straight away. She'd spent too long waiting for her chance, and Meg couldn't take it any longer. The torture Dean would endure as his little brother died painfully and slowly right in front of him would have to be enough.

And then..._then_...Meg shuddered with pleasure in her new meat suit...

_...You'll know what hell's like soon Dean. You'll understand true enough when you burn right along with your father and brother._

Giving the very late and unfortunate Tina a small nudge with her foot, Meg opened the broom closet door.

And 'Nurse Nora' stepped out to play.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Bobby was just pulling up the long sweeping gravel driveway, his battered old pickup completely out of place in such grand surroundings, when he spotted the Winchesters. Jumping down from the cab with his typical gruff smile, Bobby strode over to the brothers shaking hands with both and studying Sam with an unnervingly steady gaze.

"Looking good kid." He finally nodded his approval. "Leastways a darn sight better than when you first came here."

Sam rolled his eyes but felt secretly pleased with his assessment. "Bobby there are _coma _patients in better shape than me when I first arrived." He gave that some thought and shrugged, laughing a little. "That I can remember anyhow."

Dean chuckled. "Thought I was gonna have to force feed the little shit like a three year old at one stage." He stepped back when his brother made to cuff him round the head and laughed again. "Come on Sparky, let's go."

And with Bobby's help Sam was manhandled into the truck, his wheelchair placed in back and secured with bungee ropes. Settled on the rear bench, Dean gently raised Sam's feet up onto the seat, a pillow stuffed underneath for comfort. The bandages and gauze had been changed again that morning and recovered in the plastic waterproof material, wrapped snugly round each limb to keep the grafts sterile and secure. The heavy dressing meant that Sam could barely move his legs, but then that _was _rather the idea.

His brother wasn't running any marathons in the near future anyhow.

"You ok Sam? Comfortable enough?" Dean tugged a blanket over Sam's protesting form.

"Dean I'm fine, really." Sam smiled. "It's a little warm for a blanket though."

"Could turn cold again later. Forecast's good but I don't wanna take any chances." Dean explained in a no-nonsense tone, his jaw clenched in determination.

Bobby caught the younger brother's eye and stifled a laugh. It was vaguely amusing to watch a Mother-Hen-Dean but at the same time it really wasn't wise to point it out to him. And besides, the boy had very good reason to be concerned so Bobby merely nodded slightly when it appeared Sam was just letting it go.

"Ok let's roll!" Dean leapt up into the front passenger seat, grinning like an excited kid.

During the journey the brothers joked and kept the conversation light, but underneath the humour Dean was dying to ask the big question. He'd thought about it all through his morning shower and breakfast but still couldn't bring himself to mention it to Sam. It didn't seem fair to right now. His brother had promised he would think about counselling and Dean knew he'd taken the request seriously, so badgering the already troubled kid for an answer just wasn't right. Not today of all days.

He knew it wouldn't be an easy decision to make; Dean remembered how Sam had clammed up after Jess's death, not because he didn't necessarily_ want_ to talk about it, but because he just simply _couldn't_. Dean had been the same after their father died, the subject too damn painful to even think about let alone hash out in the open, but that was a different situation. John was Sam's dad too whereas Dean had known Jess for only a brief instance, and then there was the small matter of Sam's freaky visions.

Deciding to dropkick the subject right out of his head and just enjoy the day out, Dean forced a smile that eventually became genuine the more the brothers bickered and nagged at each other.

"So come on guys, tell me where we're going." Sam whined from the back for maybe the thirteenth time since they set out.

Dean sighed the big brother sigh of older siblings everywhere; it spoke of long years of painful suffering and annoying little brothers that wouldn't shut up and do as they were told.

_Any minute now I'm gonna get 'arewethereyet?arewethereyet?arewethereyet?' and I'm sure the little shit's gonna do it just to piss me off..._

He pointed out the window instead. "We're here."

Sam pressed his nose up against the glass. "Wow! I didn't know the place was so huge!"

The Wildheath Safari and Conservation Centre was massive in fact and housed all kinds of exotic wild animals as well as reptiles, snakes, arachnids, fish, sea lions, apes and the more usual ponies, wolves, bears and even a Pets Corner. Kathy had specifically suggested _on the quiet_ that Dean took his brother to Pets Corner, earning the obligatory _what the fuck? _expression from him that required an immediate explanation.

She firmly believed that animals were good for the soul, promoting calm and emotional healing, combined with the comfort and pleasure that's exchanged between animal and human on physical contact. Dean had stared at her, more than a little disgusted until she'd snorted with laughter and broadened that statement a little.

Scratching a dog behind the ears or rubbing its belly would, for example, pleasure the dog. But at the same time the human, in this case Sam, would also feel comfort on touching the soft fur and watching the animal's positive reactions. It was the positive reactions - _the lack of pain_ – that was the key, along with all the instant love that followed.

Dean still wasn't sure about it but he got the idea. He'd always liked dogs and could understand why his brother's recovery might be enhanced by them, and according to Kathy there were a number of breeds up at Pets Corner. The only thing they had to be wary of was picking up any infections; Sam couldn't afford another setback and realistically he probably shouldn't have been let out just yet, but there was a definite likelihood of the young Winchester freaking out and bolting first chance he got if he wasn't allowed some freedom soon.

Not a risk worth taking.

And that was why a small pump dispenser of ethanol-based hand gel had been provided in the picnic hamper, along with his pain meds and antibiotics. There was even an oxygen tank in Bobby's truck just in case Sam had problems with animal hair and feathers. He was over the worst of the pneumonia, almost completely recovered in fact, but no one was taking any chances on that score. Dean just had to keep him away from cats...

"Hey Dean, they got elephants!" Sam announced, sounding just like an eight year on a school trip.

Dean grinned. Growing up, the brother's hadn't really spent much time sight-seeing so this trip was definitely going to be a day out to remember. His smile only faltered a little when a tiny cynical voice in his head asked why their _father_ had never bothered to take them.

Sadly, he already knew the answer and for the first time ever it came as little comfort.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The morning shot by them in a blur of wings, fur, claws and the big grey trunks of the elephants. Dean was surprised how much the place was sparking his interest, and in particular found the falconry displays astounding.

Bobby merely strolled alongside the brothers in poorly concealed amusement, listening to their exclamations and light hearted discussions, and at the same time feeling a little strange this task had fallen to him.

Not that he minded. Just the opposite.

Sam had been fascinated by the orang-utan breeding programs and the plans to release some of the big gentle apes back into the wild. The penguins made him laugh as did the chimpanzees that pulled faces at his brother through the glass enclosure, especially when Dean returned the gestures with frightening and often disgusting accuracy.

As predicted Sam enjoyed Pets Corner, befriending a large gentle Belgian shepherd that was all hair, nose and big soft beseeching eyes, and kept shoving his head onto Sam's lap, fixing him with a piercing gaze. The big mutt had once been a sniffer dog with the drug squad but was rejected due to _undesirable personality traits._ In other words, he was too distracted and too soft for the trade and found greater pleasure running around excitedly, begging his human colleagues for love.

"So when were ya planning on telling me?" Dean spoke in a low voice and kept his eyes on Sam but Bobby knew very well whom he was talking to.

"To be honest I didn't even know about the place until you boys got there," Bobby kicked lightly at the ground, sending up a small spray of pebbles. "But when I noticed the disguised wards and sigils painted on each door and the devil's traps over all entrances I had a pretty good idea it weren't no ordinary hospital."

Dean looked a little shocked. "Christ! I didn't even spot those! What the hell's wrong with me?" He cracked his knuckles in frustration, body growing jittery.

"Now hold ya horses there." Bobby quirked an eyebrow at him. "You had a whole plateful of worries as it was without that. Least now you can rest easy knowing Sam's safe for the time being."

"Bullshit!" Dean spat out. "I should've been watching; if I can't even tell between the good guys and the bad how the hell am I supposed to keep Sam safe until he recovers?" He spun round and paced angrily, muttering and cursing at his own stupidity, and it was at this point Bobby realised Dean had reached his limit. Everything was about roll down the mountain in one mean mother of an avalanche and both Winchesters were standing right in its path.

"Let's sit awhile." Bobby gently grasped Dean's arm and steered him towards to his brother. "Have some food and relax." Jerking his chin towards Sam he added "no point in freaking him out huh? He's just starting to enjoy himself."

Running a hand though his hair, Dean nodded. "He knows already but yeah, you're right. Let's eat." Plastering on a genuine grin at the soft smile on Sam's face and sitting down on the nearby bench, he opened the hamper and pulled out greaseproof wrapped packages. "You hungry yet Sam? I'm starving!"

Sam glanced up from his doggy conversation with the shepherd. "Sure am. Can't wait to see what Trent came up with this time."

Dean handed over the package clearly marked 'Sam'. "Pretty sure you got Cajun fried chicken again." Then pulled out Bobby's with an eye roll "No doubt you got corned beef..."

Bobby's eyes lit up. "Damn straight. Cheap, cheerful and full of protein."

"And I'm guessing I got..." But Dean didn't get to finish. Sam's new found friend leapt to his feet barking angrily, teeth bared at the morsel of chicken sandwich offered him by a soft hearted Winchester. "What the hell's wrong with him?"

Sam blinked and shook his head. "I don't know. He was fine until I unwrapped my..." And _Sam_ didn't get to finish this time because Dean grabbed his food, rewrapped it and dumped it back in the hamper. "Dean..."

His older brother scowled, almost shaking with adrenaline. "Kathy can run that passed the tox lab when we get back, and we're leaving _now_!"

Bobby didn't hesitate, just threw his own package into the hamper and nodded. "Let's go."

Dean passed the hamper to Bobby and moved behind his brother's chair, releasing the brakes. He couldn't see Sam's face but given there was no protest or argument it seemed obvious Sam was coming to the same conclusion. They moved quickly, Bobby keeping an eye out to the rear and flanks whilst Dean watched the front. An attack was unlikely in such a public place but they weren't taking any chances.

The closer they got to the truck the more anxious Dean became. He was almost choking on his anger; someone had tried to poison Sam, _again_.

Dean wrenched the chair to a halt by the truck, Sam nearly sliding off his seat with the force. A sharp hiss of pain clued Dean in to what he was doing and he stopped, dropping into a crouch beside his brother and grasping his arms, holding him steady.

"Sorry Sammy. I'm just..." Drawing in a shaky breath, Dean's troubled gaze met Sam's as he tried again. "I just didn't see this coming, and I _should_ have."

Sam stared him, eyes wide with worry. "You really think our food was deliberately poisoned?"

Dean tried hard to smile. "You ever known a dog to turn down food?" Stifling a sniff he tilted his head, resting his forehead against Sam's, a hand coming up to gently squeeze his kid brother's neck. "It's gonna be ok Sammy. I'll call Kathy, get her to meet us at a motel somewhere; I don't want you going back to that place until we find the sonofbitch!"

Sam pulled away and started shaking his head immediately. "No way; we can't just up and leave Dean. What about all the other people? The other guests? The employees? They're all in danger."

"Fine, then me and Bobby go back..."

"Now hold on a minute!" Bobby cut in at this point. "I agree we should go back and find the culprit, make sure no one got sick. But we can't leave Sam in a motel room all on his own!"

"Kathy can stay with him..."

"Uh... guys?" Sam's head kept moving from Dean to Bobby.

"Woman's got other patients; she can't just up and leave!"

"Bobby?"

"There's other doctors..."

"Dean?"

"Yeah? And supposing it wasn't just _our_ lunch? Who's gonna look after 'em if _they_ get sick?"

Dean shook his head. "Sam's my priority."

"I'm sitting _right here!_" Sam suddenly roared. "I'm not a kid and I don't need protecting from a bout of food poisoning. For all we know that's all it is! We don't even know for sure what it _was_, for God sake!" He lowered his voice when several other visitors began shooting them curious glances. "It could be salmonella or maybe the dog's a little crazy but whatever it is, let's not lose our heads here. And I'm not gonna walk – _wheel _- away from all those people."

Dean, seeing reason at last, smirked a little at that last comment and slowly pulled out his cell phone. "Ok Wheels, I'll call Kathy first."

Bobby helped Sam back into the rear seat, making sure he was comfortable, but all the while Sam and Dean never lost eye contact, each brother seeking silent reassurance from the other. All three men were in for a tense drive, the brothers in particular thinking back to their escape from the cabin before the semi ploughed into them.

_Maybe we __**are**__ being paranoid_, Sam reasoned.

But Sam had nearly lost his brother that night; no way could he face it again. Keeping his eyes trained firmly on the scenery out the windows, he found himself silently praying.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

So this was what the last chapter was leading up to, and _this_ one leads the way to those rough times I spoke of. How will they deal with this latest turn of events? Bit of a 'whodunit' from the boys' perspective I suppose 'cos they don't know for certain what happened. What might the repercussions be and what precautions will be taken?

Me and my wild imagination eh? What will I think of next! Lucky that I've already got chapter 9 ready to go for tomorrow night otherwise I'll be getting some pretty nasty emails! LOL!

Hope you enjoyed this update, and thanks again for all your kind comments. You guys have really made this all worth the effort.

Kind regards,

ST xxx


	9. Chapter 9

**Back For Good Chapter 9**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

By the time they made it back Dr Grey was already waiting for them at the front entrance, a cool box packed with ice at the ready. And judging from her demeanour she seemed to be leaning towards accidental food poisoning due to bad hygiene rather than a deliberate attack. After all, the place was well protected and everyone on site believed their home to be impregnable.

"This should keep the food preserved until it gets to the lab," Kathy indicated the young courier on standby wearing a leather biker's suit and motorbike helmet. "They promised to call as soon as they had a result. In the meantime I've ordered Trent to close the kitchens." Studying their pale angry faces, she sighed. "He's pretty mortified, but at least no one else had even sat down to their meals when you called." A small smile. "I guess your insatiable bottomless stomachs and need for an early lunch saved the day!"

No one returned the smile. It was the damn _dog_ that saved the day.

"Look on the bright side! No one's sick...yet... and its takeout food all round for the next few days!" Kathy soon gave up trying to reassure them. "Come on Sam, let's get you settled in bed. You look exhausted."

Sam didn't even put up a fight, Dean noticed with some concern, just sighed tiredly and nodded.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Everyone waited it out on tenterhooks. Kathy ran tests and examined each and every patient, and every member of staff for signs of illness, just to be sure. Trent ran a full risk assessment on the kitchen, restaurant and surrounding areas, searching for evidence of malpractice and bad hygiene. He was responsible for all staff training and was obviously taking this personally, but so far found nothing. Kathy was right, the young Aussie was indeed horrified that the Winchesters and Bobby could have been harmed by his food preparation, and he worked day and night, going over the books, checking wards and protection symbols around the cold rooms, storage units and ovens, occasionally falling asleep in his office until Dr Grey ordered him to get some rest.

Dean and Bobby made their own discreet checks, usually by slipping various members of staff a belt of holy water in their tea or coffee. But they soon realised with the shift rotations and constant coming and going of people there was no way to get round everyone in the building, so Bobby slipped down to the basement and got his hands on the water supply.

Takeout food was personally called through, picked up and handled by the head chef, making sure that no one else came into contact with it, and a different company was used at random each night from the nearby towns. He'd insisted on Dean and Kathy acting as his witnesses for each meal time, supervising every move carefully. No one could blame him, compensation culture being what it was, and Kathy certainly didn't relish a court case, even up against former hunters.

Sam, not allowed out of his room under his brother's orders, became increasingly restless and nervous. It wasn't like he could argue against it either, given his medical status, and to ensure Sam's obedience Dean had stolen his wheelchair.

_Bastard._

No one other than his doctor and family were allowed to see him, not even the other guests from the dining room. It was driving him crazy, the claustrophobia closing in all the time and he felt forced to take drastic action.

When Dean was out for the food checks Bobby tried to keep him amused but it wasn't working. He tried to sneak out the garden doors just for a breath of fresh air, but Bobby came out of the bathroom just in time to catch him in mid-hobble.

"You heard what your brother said and _you shouldn't be on your feet._" At least Sam hadn't put up much of struggle when Bobby determinedly but gently hauled him back to his bed.

"Bobby I've _gotta_ get out! Please! For a little while, that's all." Sam looked so panicked and desperate that Bobby regretfully played the dirty card.

"I know kid, and I'm sorry. But Dean's going outta his mind with worry. He's scared of losing you Sam, so just try to hold on a little while longer. For his sake?"

Sam's mouth snapped shut, the magic words having worked their charm. The kid was obviously making a concerted effort to calm down but Bobby could see how much it was costing him, could see it in his eyes. A quiet word with Dean was warranted before Kathy decided to sedate him for his own good, and that wouldn't solve anything if the results came back the way Dean and Bobby suspected; Sam needed to stay sharp.

_Dean mentioned there was a counsellor on site..._Bobby gnawed on his lip thoughtfully.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Bobby didn't have to say a word, the look on his face told Dean everything he needed to know. Carrying three trays of takeout food into Sam's room and sensing the atmosphere immediately, Dean stopped and stared at his brother. Sam was hunched over, eyes fixed on his hands playing with a loose blanket thread, mouth turned down in misery.

Bobby wolfed down his food, watching the brothers in his peripheral vision. Sam barely touched his tray and Dean looked close to despair.

"Sammy..."

"M'sorry. Trying." Sam mumbled apologetically and shrugged.

"Yeah, _very_ trying." Was Dean's droll answer.

"Ha. You're a funny dude." Sam matched his tone, feeling some sense of normality creeping back.

"Doncha just know it!" A flash of teeth in an easy grin, and Dean sat back a little more relaxed. Sam's mouth twitched in amusement before taking another few bites and chewing steadily.

Bobby cleared his throat loudly and put down his empty tray. "I'm gonna head out and check the grounds." When Dean glanced up Bobby gestured to the door and he nodded, got to his feet and followed.

"Sam said anymore about counselling?" Bobby asked quietly.

"Not yet. But maybe now's not a bad time to ask." Dean rubbed his eyes. "Might take his mind off things a little. We all gotta long wait."

Bobby gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and moved off, hoping the brothers would get some time alone before someone else came bursting in with the next crisis.

Dean sighed quietly and turned back to the room to find Sam watching him guardedly. "I don't suppose there's a chance you didn't catch any of that?"

Sam smiled softly. "No chance at all."

"Right." Mustering a little courage in the face of his nervous brother, Dean sat back down and took a deep breath. "I..."

"I'll do it. I'll speak to Andrew Darcy." Sam interrupted, voice trembling lightly.

"Sam..." Dean began again softly, not wanting to pressurise him.

"It's ok Dean. You said he's a good guy and I trust your judgment. And you're right." That sad smile returned. "I do need help with this."

_And I can't stand to see you worry yourself into an early grave for me._

Dean got the message.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

'Nurse Nora' went about her duties but became increasingly frustrated when there was no news of the younger brother. Not a word. Everyone was being tight-lipped and even the regulars in the restaurant knew nothing. The only certain thing was that Sam hadn't ingested the drugs.

_Dean again..._

Even now the body of the eighteen year old trainee chef was buried in the gardens as far back from the main grounds as possible, and all traces of blood had been wiped from the floor – _and ceiling _– of the broom closet. It was a pain in the ass with the very real threat of being caught in a building pretty much full of old hunters; not in their prime maybe, but still a threat nonetheless. Meg could have called for backup, informing the other demons of her rank that the Sanctuary had been found and _would they care for a piece of Winchester ass? _But there was time for that later; maybe once Meg had her revenge _then_ the others could join in the fun but she doubted it.

She'd been lucky to find a way in as it was, lucky to find the incantations and rites that would render all the humans efforts at protection completely useless, and she wasn't about to blow it now. She'd passed the health exams with flying colours, and the rites that unbarred her entry were the same ones that protected her when washing her hands. It wasn't hard to figure it out – _like father like son_ – and Meg could still hear the sizzling of her brother's feet during their pursuit of John Winchester, not that the little bastard didn't deserve it after testing the fake colt out on her.

Still, all the trouble was worth it, and 'Nora' was sincerely looking forward to doing it all over again, her anger and eagerness heightened by the recent failure...

A door closed loudly someway behind her and Dean Winchester passed by, a strained smile on his face.

"Hi Nora." He muttered distractedly.

"You ok Dean?" 'Nora' gave off what she felt was a pretty good imitation of a concerned nurse. "Looking tired there. How's Sam?"

"He's...ok." Dean appeared to think about it for a moment. "I just spoke with Andrew Darcy; Sam's agreed to talk to him."

Meg's inner ears pricked up at that and she started probing the nurse's memory, meeting little resistance from the poor woman.

_Ahhhh..._

"Darcy's a good man." 'Nora' nodded enthusiastically. "He'll be a big help to your brother."

"Yeah," Dean rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I sure hope so." He nodded politely and moved on.

Meg grinned. _Oh I __**know **__so..._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

When the results finally came back from the lab the majority of people were in for a surprise. Of course, Dean wasn't one of them. At least not entirely.

Kathy, grimfaced and frowning stood at the foot of Sam's bed holding a fax.

Sam watched her almost fearfully whereas Dean was harder to read. His only tell was the jiggling left leg. Bobby, who'd taken up residence in the room since they got back from Wildheath, hovered quietly nearby.

"Uh...it seems that there _was _a toxin in the food." Finally meeting Dean's gaze Kathy narrowed her eyes a little, a silent warning to brace himself. "But it was only present in the chicken sandwich and in heavy...uh..." she breathed in shakily as all eyes in the room turned to Sam "..._lethal_ quantities."

"What was it?" Sam swallowed nervously, awaiting the answer.

Kathy pursed her lips, clearly dreading this. "The lab scientists have seen this before Sam." She stared at him, judging his reactions. "It was an analogue of the same drugs found in your system after you were abducted, but stepped up a little. A _lot_."

Sam's breathing became a little shaky, his words lightly stuttering as Dean gripped his arm tightly. "W-what do you mean 'stepped up'? What w-would it have done to me?"

Kathy glanced worriedly at Dean who shook his head slightly, a dangerous expression on his face. "I don't think that's relevant now..."

"_Tell me!"_

Everyone flinched at the raw fear in Sam's voice and Kathy nodded slowly.

"Because of the nature of this particular drug, how it _hides _itself within the victim's metabolim, we mightn't have known until it was too late, several hours or maybe a few days. With the _irreversible _damage it could have done to your body, you would've been dead inside a week, probably from respiratory and multi-organ failure. And," somehow she felt he deserved the most absolute honesty, "it would have been a slow, painful death."

Dean got to his feet and turned away, shaking, tears of frustration and terror snaking down his cheeks.

"_She's_ here. _Somehow_ she got in." He rasped out, voice laden with fury.

_Meg. _

But he'd known somehow.

Back in the factory, she'd escaped via the vent duct before the exorcism was properly employed. The bitch had been out there all along, biding her time, trying to find them, _to find a way in_.

"Dean what are you doing?" Sam watched his brother frantically pulling their clothes from the closet and drawers, and stuffing them into the duffle bags.

"We're leaving. You're not safe here Sammy."

"That d..." _doesn't make any sense..._

Dean rounded on him, eyes bright with fury. "It was _your_ sandwich. Those damn drugs again...it was meant to _kill_ you Sam! Until your feet heal you're way too vulnerable here!"

Sam's face softened. "This is the safest place we've been for a long time. Not even Bobby's is so well protected." He leaned forward, eyes full of worry and understanding. "There's nowhere else to go Dean. This is it. We have to face her down _right here_."

Dean had never witnessed such bravery in his little brother. Sure, he'd seen him driven by rage to acts of stupidity, and Sam could certainly never be described as a coward, but still...

_You put me to shame kiddo 'cos all I wanna do is run._

Staring at his brother for a long moment, Dean suddenly nodded and slumped back into his seat. "Yeah." He scrubbed a frustrated hand over his face. "Yeah I know. And you're not fit to travel yet anyhow."

"We'll find her Dean."

"I know." But the words were forced, almost strangled out of his mouth.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Bobby was glad in a way that Sam's mind was distracted by Dean's pain, and the need to comfort his older brother became his priority again. They all had a lot to deal with and knowing there was a vengeful demon on the loose somewhere nearby really wasn't helping.

Salt lines were refreshed round the room and bed, a crucifix over the French windows and a devil's trap drawn on the ceiling for what little good any of it would do.

Kathy had left a few minutes ago when her pager went off, leaving Bobby and Dean with a now sleeping Sam. The younger brother really didn't look well, the tension of the last few days having caught up with him in spite of everyone's attempts to keep Sam clear of it all.

"God Bobby, he's so pale he could pass for a mime artist."

"Don't let Sam hear you say that!" Bobby smirked.

As far as Sam was concerned mime artists were only one step away from clowns, and if he had his way they'd all be locked up in the strongest curse box he could find and buried as deep down as he could manage. Though possibly the Earth's core wouldn't be deep enough to satisfy Sam, who had once speculated that Ronald MacDonald was actually a serial killer in his spare time.

Dean chuckled softly, smoothing down the blankets on Sam's bed.

"When's his appointment with Darcy?" Asked Bobby curiously.

"Two pm. Darcy agreed to come to Sam. Gives him some time to rest." Dean studied his kid brother's face again, noting the heavily closed lids, long lashes brushing high cheek bones, yet again reminding him of a much younger Sam. "Stupid question I know, but any luck on the demon front?"

Bobby shook his head, regretfully. "But your EMF meter should be fully charged up soon enough; I'll go out on another recon then." _Might be our only warning._

It was a testament to just how long Sam and Dean had been out of the game that when the lab results came through, effectively confirming the attempt on Sam's life, the EMF meter was dead as a door nail, the battery completely out of juice.

It made Dean feel pretty cold. He should have been keeping their equipment maintained and ready for anything, but all his time had been taken up with worrying about his brother.

It was no excuse.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"So you're Sam Winchester huh?" Darcy wrinkled his nose under the nasal canular and grumbled. "Damn nurses...why do these things have to itch so damn much!"

Sam couldn't help smiling and he took a few moments to study the long line of medals on the old guy's chest.

_Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. This guy musta been through alot._

"You'll have to excuse me," Darcy continued. "My health's not what it was and I aint gettin' any younger. Thank God! Where you youngsters get the energy from..."

Dean took his leave at this point and tried hard not to listen through the door, but justified the first few minutes in making sure Sam felt safe.

"Um...Dean thought I should talk to you...about what happened to me." Sam sounded so unsure and nervous he almost changed his mind about staying _outside_ the room.

"Uhuh." Darcy rumbled. "That's not such a bad idea. But I get the feeling you aint so sure about this."

"Maybe." Sam fell silent.

"Ya know...I was captured during the war when my plane went down behind enemy lines. Taken to some kind of bunker...felt sure my life was over. Probably by some painful death. Oh I didn't exactly get left out on that score, kid. Torture was painful as hell."

There was a rustle of clothing and Dean got the impression scars were being compared.

Dean heard Sam say "Yeah? Really?" in a heartbreakingly almost _hopeful_ voice.

"Yeah kid." There was a small silence, and Dean heard Darcy move in his chair a little.

"H-how dya deal with that?" Sam again, sounding so unsure and lost.

Dean wasn't aware of the determined glare Darcy gave Sam. "I _lived._ And that had to be enough_._" But he sure heard it in his voice.

Dean wasn't quite sure how Sam was gonna take that, it sounded a little too much like their father for his liking and Dean was ready to burst in until...

"But I'll tell ya.." Darcy continued in a kinder tone, and Dean couldn't figure it out.

"Yeah?" Sam's voice again.

A small pause.

"I was literally _shitting _myself and that aint no lie."

At the sound of the old and young hero laughing together, Dean smiled contentedly and left them to it.

He had a lot to think about including how Meg had managed to get inside the home, how the bitch escaped the holy water..._where is she?_

Dean was scared, tired and frustrated. He knew she was still around, could feel it somehow and their only option was to wait for her next move. That didn't sit right at all; Dean preferred action to the waiting game, needed to feel like he was doing something. The atmosphere was thrumming with tension throughout the hospital, patients never left their rooms and all non-essential staff sent home. The entire building was now effectively in lock down, and Dean wasn't sure if that was a good thing. The bitch had to be loving this, drawing it out, making everybody paranoid and nervous.

Bobby had made some calls and a trail soon emerged of dead bodies in psychic stores and communities stretching across several states. Dean was willing to bet money Meg was involved, probably trying to track down a way of breaking through all the sanctions and occult locks surrounding the home, and apparently she must have succeeded.

No one they'd seen so far out of all the staff and residents had even remotely reacted to the water, either by drinking it or washing in it, and speaking 'Christo' in the presence of some only served to conjure a funny look.

Kathy was stumped. The home had survived the last sixty years by the building up of silent networks and use of various cloaking spells and rituals, but now they were exposed. It wouldn't be long before other demons detected the safe haven and Bobby was furiously trying to find new protection for Kathy and her patients before it was too late..._before Meg blew the whistle and all of hell showed up on their doorstep._

And all this because of the Winchester family. Dean felt fairly bitter about that. The only consolation was the doctor's clear and sensible head. She didn't blame them and even went so far as to say that it had only been a matter of time anyhow.

None of it served to make him feel any better. He felt worse in fact and decided to concentrate on the here and now before it was too late. Sam had to survive this and if he didn't then Dean wasn't sticking around to see the end of the world, and he sure didn't give a rat's ass about any war. Sam _was_ his world.

But the nasty feeling was creeping in that their situation was coming to a head very soon. Time was running out.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to boy, no one's gonna force ya, but how about describing those nightmares?" Darcy watched the young Winchester intently. "Your brother's really worried about those. He don't like seeing you suffer."

Sam appeared to think about that, opening and closing his mouth a few times. It was obviously a struggle for him, and his breathing quickened, hands beginning to shake.

Meg fought to keep the smug grin from appearing. Sam already looked nervous and she was dying to hear _all_ about the torment she'd caused him, right from the horse's mouth as it were. She had time, after all, to celebrate her accomplishments before the final act.

"It's always the same dream." Sam finally murmured eyes downcast. "I'm back in that warehouse, tied to a chair...and the demon...she's taunting me. Telling me my brother won't come for me, that I'm worthless. She keeps tightening the ropes until they're cutting into my arms...I can't see anything...can't cry out for help whenever she hurts me...then the blindfold's ripped away....and..." He stifled a sob, shoulder's trembling.

"S'ok. You're safe here." Darcy encouraged gently but Meg loved every moment of the kid's pain.

"My brother...Dean...he's standing right in front of me." Tears filled Sam's eyes and spilled over, rolling down his face. "He's telling me to leave, that he doesn't want me around...there's a gun in his hand, pointing at me...and...and he shoots me right between the eyes..."

Meg had to force herself to stay quiet, to quell the sudden urge to laugh out loud. This was priceless! All those long pleasant nights of torture and murder, trying to find a way into the Sanctuary, forcing wiccans and psychics to give up their long guarded secrets, and all the while the youngest boy was already _torturing himself_. With a bit of luck his brother would be having similar nightmares; all the seers she'd slaughtered over the weeks since the brothers disappeared had said the same thing: Sam and Dean had a strange and special bond, and Meg had used that in her search for them.

"Ya know he wouldn't shoot his own brother right?" Darcy enquired softly, patting the youngster's hands as they fiddled nervously.

Sam sniffed and nodded, forcing a smile and still staring at his knees. "Yeah, I know he wouldn't."

Darcy nodded, but it was Meg's feral smile on his face, fingering the full syringe in his robe pocket. "Good boy..."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Found anything?" Dean rubbed the back on his neck. _When was the last time I slept properly?_

Bobby looked decidedly shifty. "Oh I found something alright." And showed him the newly charged EMF meter. The tiny red LEDs were flashing intermittently in an odd pattern.

Dean stared at them in frustration. "So basically it's telling us what we already know? _Damnit!_"

"Yep, 'fraid so."

The EMF was showing residual readings only, which certainly confirmed there was a demon on site but didn't tell them where. And the problem was the damn thing had been all over the place in the last twenty four hours, probably covering its tracks. Bobby had followed the signals through every hallway, to the labs, the staff room, the kitchens and restaurant. The head chef was frantic with the loss of his trainee and Bobby was convinced the young girl was the first of possibly multiple victims. Tina, Trent informed him, had been responsible for preparing the picnic sandwiches....

"Ok." Dean took a deep breath and tried to think. "There's no point in following a trail because there _is _no trail, so..."

Bobby nodded in understanding. "We have to find the human host by sheer dumb luck."

Both men nodded. _Time to get nasty._

"What do we do when we find it?" Dean suddenly demanded, wondering why he hadn't thought of that before. "We can't pin it down with a devil's trap, damn thing managed to get through those already."

"I brought us a little back up." Bobby produced an ancient looking text. "It's in Aramaic, the very words used by Jesus Christ himself during an exorcism. Not many people know about this so..."

Dean started smiling. "Hopefully our darling Meg won't have either. I getcha." He paused and shot Bobby an amused look. "And...er...where did you managed to liberate that from, dare I ask?"

Bobby looked even shiftier if at all possible. "Let's just say the local church has quite a decent library locked away in the basement...and I _borrowed_ it."

Dean grinned. "Why Bobby you thievin' dog!"

"I intend to return it!" Bobby replied indignantly.

"Yeah sure you do," Dean snorted with laughter. "And you aint dying to just add that to your own _personal_ collection?"

"I may have photocopied it..."

A loud scream echoed loudly round the hallway putting an abrupt end to their conversation. Nurses came running from all directions and several of the patients stuck their heads round the doors to their rooms, muttering about peace and quiet, and wondering what the hell was going on.

_That's a good question._ Dean set off with Bobby, jogging down the hall and into the next wing. As they approached the crowd of stricken nurses and over-excitable patients, the EMF started going crazy in Dean's hand.

"This is it Bobby!"

Bobby nodded as they pushed their way through, text already open, words hovering on his tongue. But what they found was a heart broken young nurse being comforted by Kathy Grey who appeared to be trying her best to keep her own tears in check. It was easy to see why and Dean gaped in shock at the body of Nora sprawled out on the floor of the ladies rest room in the manner of a five pointed star, an obvious taunt at their failed defences. Her throat was slit, fresh dark blood still pumping from the stark wound, eyes open and staring at the ceiling.

A horrible feeling in his gut made Dean slowly raised his eyes to the ceiling and he staggered back to the door, turning on his heel, bolting down the hallway, Bobby hot on his tail.

Kathy gazed fearfully up at the message scrawled in crimson above the dead nurse.

_She was fun. But I'm enjoying your brother much more._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The old guy kept talking but Sam was getting sleepy and he couldn't figure out why. He'd had plenty of sleep the night before and an afternoon nap so why...

He suddenly realised that his head had fallen back against his pillow and he couldn't move. Darcy was staring into his eyes; Sam felt himself being pulled under into a darkness that scared him and he started fighting it, but he just wasn't strong enough to break away.

"Wha...?" He tried to ask but his tongue felt thick and heavy. _What's happening to me?_

"Just relax Sammy." A cold bolt of fear shot through Sam's heart when Darcy's eyes flickered black, a gnarled claw-like hand reaching out, wrapping round the young Winchester's neck.

"Me-eg," Sam whispered brokenly. "No..." _She's doing this somehow, dampening my reactions._

She smiled insanely, contorting Darcy's once kind face into an evil sadistic nightmare. "I just love it when you share your dreams with me." A sickening, familiar laugh shattered the quiet of the room as she leered at him, delighting in his helplessness as he struggled to breathe. "It gives me such a _tingle_!"

Sam's lungs were on fire, his body screaming for oxygen, vision wavering in the fight to survive. Her grip on his throat tightened even as his hand scrabbled weakly for the call button.

Darcy's arm pulled Sam's upper body off the bed until he was at eye level, Meg's black gaze boring into his. Call button now out of reach, Sam could feel his body giving up, arms dropping limply to his sides and Meg took great pleasure in shaking him by the neck like a rag doll.

The long groan of pain was trapped in his abused throat when he heard loud thuds against the bedroom door, rattling the wood in its frame until it finally crashed open.

"Sammy!"

Sam heard his brother's frantic shout but couldn't answer, eyes already sliding shut, head spinning, body growing numb.

Meg shifted and her smile filled out Darcy's wrinkled old face, black eyes gleaming.

"Dean. So glad you could make it." Meg batted her eyelashes. "Once again I'm flattered." She gestured a welcome with her free hand before reaching into Darcy's robe pocket.

"Leave 'im alone." Dean roared out, "Sammy you ok? Talk to me!"

"Oh don't worry. Sam aint dead...yet! I not nearly finished playing with him." Meg shook Sam violently once more, then placed the syringe in the unconscious boy's hand, curling his fingers round it. "Hey Dean..."

Meg turned, eyes sparkling.

Darcy's head suddenly shot back on his neck, mouth stretched wide open. Black smoke streamed out wailing in triumph round the room until it spotted its target, swooped and dived...

It was Sam's body, Sam's movements, Sam's voice...

"...wanna see Sam kill 'imself?" Sam's head turned as he got out of bed, syringe in hand, facing his brother with those terrible black eyes. "Ya go to hell for that, ya know."

And plunged the needle into his own neck.

"_NOOOOOOOO!" _Dean screamed in anguish.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

Ah. The plot thickens! So here we are, Sam's possessed and now Meg's toxin is crawling through his bloodstream.

Really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Tomorrow sees the last chapter and epilogue altogether in an extra-long instalment, so please review this one and let me know what you think.

Many thanks again to you all for staying with me on this project. You've made it even more fun for me, and much less harrowing than I thought it would be.

Kind regards,

ST xxx


	10. Chapter 10

**Back For Good Chapter 10**

**And epilogue**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

'_There are monsters and there are heroes, but most of us are ordinary mortals caught up in events too turbulent for any of us. _

_Perhaps one day all we will inherit are the ashes of a once beautiful land.'_

_-__**Wilbur Smith.**_

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

_**Slight recap from Dean's POV as we slouch ever onwards...**_

Dean's heart went from fast to hyper speed. Any faster and it was either going into orbit around the Earth, or more likely end up being ripped apart by the Earth's gravitation pull.

_Shouldn'thavelefthimwhatthehellwasIthinking!!!!!!!_

He raced back down the hall to his brother's room and body-slammed the door when the handle refused to budge.

_I don't remember it being locked!_

"Sam!" He charged the heavy door again and again, uncaring of the pain, finally hearing the lock give way and the heavy wood splinter in its hinges. One more shove, this time with Bobby's help when he caught up and the door gave way, flying back to collide with a loud bang against the wall.

Dean's eyes widened fearfully. "Sammy!"

His little brother hung limp and lifeless in Darcy's one handed grip on his throat, though judging by his eyes it certainly wasn't Darcy anymore. Dean could just about see Sam's face in profile and it was turning a frightening shade of purple, eyes half closed, and even in those few terrible seconds he heard his brother's last desperate squeaks of air before his eyes slid shut altogether.

_Nonononono..._

The demon was talking but Dean paid no heed, anxious eyes fixed on his brother's slack face, willing him to wake up. _C'mon Sammy __**please...**_

"Hey Dean..." Meg grinned in triumph when she finally caught and held his attention.

Then the room was full of black smoke.

Dean barely registered the dull thud as Darcy's body hit the floor, too intent on watching the demon possess his injured brother. He felt Bobby tense up beside him and shoved the older man back out in the hall.

"Start reading but don't let it see you!" He whispered harshly without taking his eyes off Sam.

The demon forced Sam's body to stand on his bandaged feet with a little more force than necessary it seemed to Dean, and he bit down on his anger, a silent reminder that Sam needed _him_ not his fury.

"…wanna see Sam kill himself?" Black eyes regarded Dean with evil distain, the eerie smile that didn't quite belong to Sam widening with glee. "Ya go to hell for that ya know."

"_NOOOO!_" Dean heard himself screaming when the needle jammed into his brother's neck, watched the toxin enter Sam's bloodstream. The demon dropped the empty syringe, rolled Sam's neck, let out a sigh of satisfaction and seemed to almost _slither_ across the floor towards Dean and he fought the urge to step back.

"Gotta love suicide huh Dean? _It's a mortal sin_." Meg hissed through Sam's mouth. "Little Sammy'll burn for it."

Dean gritted his teeth. "No he won't. You…"

Meg tilted Sam's head in a sharp jerky movement. "You think because he was possessed they'll let 'im into heaven?" A quick shake of the head and a smug grin made Dean clench his fists. "_Nuh_uh. Doesn't work that way big brother. Your ever so merciful God aint quite so merciful these days. Hasn't been for millions of years as I found out the hard way, _so don't expect him to change now!"_

"What you want me to do? Cry for ya? Aint gonna happen. And I _aint_ your big brother!" Dean ground out. "You're not _Sam_."

"Makes no difference. Sam's dying, Dean, by his own hand. Those are the rules." Meg leaned in close, smelling so much like Sam that Dean had to fight back tears. "I can feel him inside, struggling against the poison. He's crying, in so much pain…_dya know how much he hates you right now for letting this happen?"_

Dean flinched, his back pressed against the wall, hadn't even realised he'd moved up until then. "Demons lie."

Sam-Meg lifted an eyebrow, pretending to consider that one. "Maybe, maybe not." It replied in a sing-song voice. "And by the way, that little nursery rhyme your friend Bobby's singing to me out there in the hall, can you ask him to speak up? I can barely hear 'im!" She pressed Sam's mouth to Dean's ear. "Just think, if it works you send me back to hell, Sam dies anyway…and I just _know_ you'll follow on soon enough. It's in your heart, it's in your head brighter than a beacon, Dean. You know it; I know it…._Sam knows it._"

Dean's facial muscles bunched up in disgust, desperate to take a swing but not wanting to hurt his brother. And while he knew demons lied to mess with your head, he also knew this time he couldn't deny its truth; he _would_ follow Sam, no matter what that entailed, no matter where it led him. It was his _job_, his _privilege._

Bobby's voice grew louder and though Dean could've ordered him to stop, there was no way he was leaving his little brother like this. Unless they got her out Meg would stay inside Sam until the poison took hold and the damage became irreversible, if it wasn't already. Kathy hadn't been entirely certain on that one.

He was quite literally between the devil and the deep blue sea, but the exorcism carried the least risk to Sam, and this way there was a chance to save his life.

The demon took a sudden step back swinging Sam's arms out and twirling excitedly like a child.

"And that's what's..._just_...so..._sweet_ about all this Dean! Don't you see it?" Sam's face was twisted in a parody of grim pleasure.

_Not Sam..._

"See _what_ exactly?" Dean spat out in reply.

That smug grin again, the kind the school bully always wore before stealing your lunch money and shoving your head down the toilet. She flexed Sam's right hand at a medicine cabinet, its door flinging open. A scalpel unsheathed itself with a small crinkle of sterile wrapping and shot across the room, impaling Dean's shoulder and pinning him to the wall, eliciting a strangled growl of pain from his mouth.

"Feel that Dean?" Meg studied his face rather like a scientist studying bacteria under a microscope. "That's just a tickle compared to what awaits you downstairs."

"_Sonofabitch!_" Dean yanked on what little was showing of the scalpel hilt, trying unsuccessfully to free himself. "Bobby keep reading!" He yelled out when Bobby's voice faltered for a moment.

Sam's face twisted into that smile again and Dean's scalpel turned in unison. He bit off an agonised howl and did his best to listen in case there was something he could learn, something useful to help his brother.

"So I get sent back to hell, been there done that…" Meg shrugged casually, Sam's head playfully tipping from side to side. "But _you _boys will be with me…._every…step…of the way…_and whilst you're stuck there in perpetual torment…_I_ can always find another way out." She laughed with Sam's vocal cords and Dean winced. "Ya Daddy says 'Hi' by the way. Says he can't wait to see you burning alongside him for all eternity like the useless little shits you really are."

She grinned at Dean's loud angry growl, loving how the blood drained from his face at the mention of his father.

Meg spread Sam's arms triumphantly in mock surrender. "See? I won't even fight you." Sam's eyebrows rose in amusement. "'Cos I win every time, Dean. _Every godamned time!_"

Bobby was practically shouting the final lines of the text when the demon waggled Sam's fingers at Dean.

"Say goodbye to little Sammy. For now." Sam's head jerked back, mouth snapped open as Meg was forced from his frail body, screaming in abject pain and misery, and as soon as she was out the black smoke was sucked into nothingness, disappearing right before Dean's eyes.

_Back to hell._

The deadening silence that followed saw Dean leaping forward, finally wrenching his injured shoulder away from the wall, catching Sam in his arms and cradling him close. Bobby appeared in the doorway, dazed and weary, watching the tears roll slowly down Dean's face as rested his chin on his little brother's head.

"I'm so sorry kiddo..."

For the first few moments life was like a silent movie in slow motion, all black and white, the picture grainy, the film slowly jerking round the reel…

…until Dean discovered Sam's heart beat, his warmth, the slight hitched rise and fall of his chest as the kid fought to pull air through his ruined throat.

Dean pulled back and peered intently at Sam's face, once again turning purple from lack of oxygen. But his little brother was still fighting.

"Bobby get the doc in here _now!_" Dean laid Sam down on the floor, tilting his head back to ease his struggle. "That's it Sammy, you keep on fighting for me…don't give up. _Don't let the bitch win this one!_"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Turned out Kathy had been keeping a crash cart in Sam's room long after he even needed one. It sat dormant and long forgotten in the corner by the window gathering dust.

Until this moment, until it was needed again.

Kathy was already barking out questions before her knees even hit the floor beside the unconscious Winchester.

"How long…?" Bobby had filled her in about the syringe as they hurried together along the hallway and Dean understood the question without even looking at her, his eyes only for Sam.

"Just a few minutes, ten at most."

Kathy nodded to the nurse who accompanied her, and got to work. "We've got time; if I can get him on haemodialysis…" her voice trailed off as she examined her patient, movements becoming frantic when her hands encountered the immediate problem. "He's not breathing."

Spotting the dark blue bruises forming round Sam's neck she was already reaching for a sterile scalpel. "His larynx has swollen shut, she choked him?"

Still not looking at each other, Dean replied tightly "Yep, 'till he turned purple."

"_Bitch!_" Both Bobby and Dean _did_ stare at her then, amazed at the vehemence in her tone and exchanged surprised glances.

"What can you do?" Dean's brief amusement gave way to Sam's plight.

"Tracheotomy." The doc answered shortly, and to the shock of his brother and Bobby proceeded to slit Sam's throat. Her gloved fingers worked gently but quickly at cutting a curvilinear incision between the sternal notch and cricoid cartilage, explaining what she was doing every step of the way. Dean shuddered at the sounds, hearing the wet sucking noises of blood slipping against flesh, hoping like hell Sam couldn't feel it.

'_Cos that's gotta hurt like a bitch_.

But he stayed with it, watching the procedure in full unable to leave his brother for a moment, not even in his own head. Finally Kathy was inserting the tracheotomy tube, inflating the cuff to open Sam's airway, and the nurse was tightly securing the whole contraption by winding medical tape round the kid's neck.

Sam remained still and pale, lips blue, slack and parted slightly as though still trying to breathe normally through his mouth.

Dean and Bobby waited anxiously while the doc hooked the protruding tube to the ventilator on the crash cart and as soon as Sam's chest started rising and falling easily, taking in a full lungful of air, she gave them no time to feel relieved, reminded them there was still too much to go wrong.

"Let's get to him to the renal unit." She uttered urgently. With Dean and Bobby helping, the nurse and Doc Grey hoisted Sam back onto his bed, raising the guard rails and fixing his torn IVs back in place.

It was only as they were hurriedly wheeling his little brother from the room that for the first time Dean acknowledged the young male doctor and nurse working on Darcy's still form. The old guy's lips were blue, face ashen, body lifeless. The medals on his unmoving chest gleamed dully in the bedroom light. Dean turned sadly and ran after his brother without looking back.

_Poor guy risked his life, fought in every kind of war imaginable and this is the thanks he gets? _

_No wonder Dad was a cynical bastard._

_Medals mean nothing when you've lost everything._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Here ya go kid." Bobby handed Dean his coffee. Kathy had given him his own special mug after Sam's first few weeks at the home, claiming he might as well have something a little more permanent.

It bore the legend: Big Brother Means Big Trouble.

It was a stupid joke that made him laugh at the time when Sam was slowly recovering, but now it wasn't quite so funny.

"Thanks Bobby," Dean whispered tiredly, rubbing an eye and stifling a yawn.

"Any news?" He felt the older man sit down beside him.

"Nah, s'only been six hours. They're still monitoring him." Dean bit his lip and breathed in a shaky breath, wondering when the hell this was all going to end. "He, uh…he had a little trouble with his vent, but I think its ok now. They've managed to remove seventy percent of the drug, now we're just waiting for the rest, see if there was any permanent damage…" His voice trailed off, feeling hopeless.

Kathy and the nurse in place of Nora, who Dean now knew as Toni, had stayed with Sam throughout the entire dialysis in case of complications. It meant there was no room for Sam's brother but Dean found he couldn't really object. The two people most qualified in the world to keep Sam alive weren't giving up on him, weren't leaving. That was all he could ask for.

Bobby nodded, not knowing quite what to say. Dean wearily put his coffee mug down on the floor by the chair, then leaned forward, burying his face in both hands.

Looking away to afford dignity, but gently squeezing the kid's shoulder in comfort at the sound of quiet, desperately muffled sobs, Bobby remained silent waiting for the older brother to compose himself.

"Bitch knew what she was doin', I gotta hand to 'er." Dean finally muttered through clenched teeth, and he sniffed angrily. "Chokin' 'im, making sure we couldn't save 'im even if we got her out in time to stop the drug." He swiped viciously at his tears.

"Didn't work though Dean; Kathy acted quickly, knew what _she_ was doin'." Bobby offered quietly, voice strong nonetheless. "And Sam's a tough kid with a stubborn-ass big brother who didn't let him give up…" He shrugged as if that answered everything. "Aint no _way_ Meg was gonna win up against that."

Nodding slowly, mouth gradually turning up at the corners, Dean was about to answer him when Kathy appeared in the doorway to the dialysis unit and he got to his feet instead, anxiously awaiting the verdict.

_C'mon Sammy…_

In reply to his silent question, she smiled warmly, kind eyes crinkling at the edges.

Dean triumphantly punched the air with his fist, eyes glowing, grin genuine. The only thing that stopped him whooping loudly and running up and down the corridor like a lunatic was the thought of disturbing the other patients.

That and...well…it just wasn't _cool._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean gently pushed open the door and slipped into the room. To his surprise Sam was awake, bleary eyes staring at the ceiling, looking rather dazed.

"Hey. Why aren't you sleeping little bro?" Dean shifted his backside onto Sam's bed, right knee hooked on the edge, left leg dangling. "You should be resting."

Sam turned his head slightly, mouth twitching up into a tired smile as he opened his mouth and froze. Dean watched frightened confusion cross his brother's face, swiftly followed by defeat when he remembered the trach tube and the hole in his throat. Instead Sam nodded slowly and grimaced in discomfort.

Dean let it slip by for his brother's sake.

"Ya know, we only got half way round Wildheath. And your canine pal's been asking after ya." One of Dean's hands was suddenly encased in one of Sam's, squeezing gently. "You wanna go back finish off our visit some day?"

Another nod, smile a little more enthusiastic.

"We owe that mutt a doggy treat at least huh?" The smirk on Dean's face faded into something more serious and reached out to stroke Sam's scalp. "We owe 'im hell of a lot more than that."

Sam's eyes, already red-rimmed and sore, filled with tears.

"God Sammy I'm so sorry. I can't believe I left you in there with her." His older brother's voice shook with remorse. "And I fucking _told _her how to get to you, to get to Darcy. Why the hell wasn't I more careful?"

Sam let go Dean's hand to place it on his shoulder, not knowing how else to comfort him. His eyes widened when Dean suddenly hissed in pain and Sam started scrabbling at his brother's shirt, pushing aside the material, until his fingers finally brushed against the thick bandaging. Staring, eyes swivelling between the injured shoulder and Dean's face, he started slowly shaking his head, tears spilling over.

"_I 'member...I h-huurrtt y-you,"_ Sam whispered painfully. How in hell he managed it Dean would never figure out but it had to hurt him. He could sense the kid withdrawing; closing himself off into a world filled with guilt.

"No! Sammy don't think that!" He grabbed Sam's chin. "Hey! Look at me..._look at me damnit!_"

Sam turned his troubled gaze on him at last and Dean sighed with worry.

"Now you listen to me ok? It wasn't you." He pointed to his shoulder. "_That_ wasn't you. It was Meg. You had no say in it, ya hear me? So stop it. Stop blaming yaself."

"_D..._"

"And no trying to talk either," Dean finished softly. "Sound like ya gotta damn spike stuck down there." He shuddered dramatically. "You tryin' to freak me out? 'Cos that's just _wrong _dude!"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The day of the funeral was hard on everyone. For the sake of the patients and staff still working their shifts a memorial service was held on the grounds, right outside Sam's room. He was still way too sick to attend the ceremonies and Dean really regretted that. The kid needed some kind of closure.

So Dean stayed in Sam's room that day, leaving the windows open and out of respect lit a few candles. He spoke the Lord's Prayer, hoped no would blame him for thinking only of his brother, for being thankful he survived. And Dean was yet again reminded of his brother's persistence and determination as Sam fought like hell to hold back his tears.

_So damn proud of you..._

The memorial service was way too emotional and if he was honest, Dean thought it was the biggest load of crap since The Waltons, but there was something about it all that day in particular.

Sam needed this and for once Dean felt something...

_His brother survived._

"You ok Sammy?"

Sam remained still for a long moment, face turned to the service outside the open French windows. Honest, scared eyes met Dean's. "_We still got each other right_?" he whispered, the trach tube shaking a little.

Dean knew what he was asking and couldn't blame him after everything had happened. He really didn't want to do this, but no matter how hard he tried to avoid it he couldn't deny his little brother deserved a chick flick moment.

Dean's hand landed on his for a brief moment, the other reaching over to wipe away a stray tear from Sam's face.

"Yeah kiddo. We got each other and no one gets in the way of that."

Music wound gently through the open French windows in memorial of the young chef and nurse, innocents who'd lost their lives protecting the Winchesters. Not to Dean's taste but...

...when he glanced out the window, people were laying roses on a memorial post...white and red...and he just couldn't stop his heart..._feeling...._

There's nothing I could say to make you try and feel ok  
And nothing you could do to stop me feeling the way I do  
And if the chance should happen that I never see you again  
Just remember that I'll always love you.

I'd be a better person on the other side I'm sure  
You'd find a way to help yourself  
Then find another door  
So shrug off minor incidents  
Make us both feel proud  
I just wish I could be there to see u through

You always were the one to make us stand out in the crowd  
Though every once upon a while your head was in a cloud  
There's nothing u could never do to ever let me down  
And remember that I'll always love you

_( - Badly Drawn Boy.)_

Exchanging a quick glance with his brother, Dean knew Sam got it. He didn't have to say another word.

_War's coming and Dad's not here to fight it..._

_But I'm right here with ya bro..._

_We fight together, we go down together._

"So...there's some serious porn on TV tonight, and Trent's swinging buy for some Blackjack, some beer, made your favourite cheesecake...."

And Sam chuckled in a rough whisper, just in relief, and Dean tried not to wince at the painful rasping.

"Don't worry Sammy, I'll save you a piece."

Just glad things had a chance of getting back to normal.

For a little while.

For however long a little while lasted.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The good news was that Andrew Darcy was tougher than anyone gave him credit for. He was the first to attend the funerals of trainee chef Christina Morrison and Nurse Nora Calvert. The old guy had made it through somehow, but his now permanently bent head and slumped shoulders told Dean it wouldn't be long for him. Darcy had been put through too much and he'd had enough.

Sam wasn't fairing much better but the kid was young and strong, and Dean didn't care what it took or how long they would have to wait until his little brother was up and about. The tracheotomy wound looked uncomfortable as hell and Sam was clearly pissed at being fed through a gastric tube in his stomach. Dean barely slept, unable to lose the adrenaline pump that set up home in his bloodstream from when Sam first went missing. His brother was still acutely sick from Meg's drugs and underwent dialysis several times a week to help clear his system; Kathy kept him dosed up on morphine to fight the pain and the poor kid was groggy and emotionally fragile most of the time.

Once Sam was finally taken off the vent the first thing he did was ask to speak to Andrew Darcy. Dean didn't know what transpired in that conversation and didn't ask, but Sam seemed lighter somehow as though a weight had been lifted. But the old man appeared so frail these days, the events of the possession having taken its toll and the guilt he felt over the deaths of Tina and Nora were more than likely responsible for the new dark shadows under his eyes. Both Sam and Darcy felt guilty for daring to survive what two women had lost their lives to and Dean barely bit back a snort of derision at the sheer craziness of that one.

It was sad, Dean reflected quietly. Darcy sought comfort by talking to Sam and vice versa but it didn't halt the old war-hero's steady decline and he passed away peacefully a few months later, leaving an extremely bereft Sam.

His little brother was making slow progress however, the drug's effects gradually filtering out, and his feet continued to heal nicely all things considered. Dean sat with him, talking quietly and making sure Sam didn't have to use his voice too much while the surgical wound in his throat was closing up.

Bobby, Kathy and Trent, along with some of the other residents became regular visitors and as time moved on, the healing continued and laughter could often be heard echoing down the hallway from Sam's room, and eventually the youngest Winchester was able to indulge in his love for Blackberry cheesecake.

"Here ya go mate," Trent announced one evening, not long after the vent came out. "One blackberry cheesecake of your very own." And placed it on Sam's tray.

Eyes gleaming with appreciation, Sam took a long deep sniff and raised an eyebrow. "What's that extra ingredient?" He raised it up to his nose and took another sniff. "Wow! Smells great!"

Trent folded him arms and nodded, please with the response. "Blackberry liqueur with a hint of orange."

Dean scratched his chin. "I'm not sure Sam should be eating that if there's alcohol involved. He's still on some heavy duty medication." He reached out to remove the cheesecake and chortled loudly when Sam slapped his hand away, scowling and protecting his favourite dessert with both arms.

"As of now," Sam growled in retort. "You so much as _look_ at it without asking..."

"Ok ok!" Dean raised both hand in supplication, still laughing. He was quite content with the cherry and cinnamon pie the head chef brought by earlier but it was always fun to rile his little brother. "I'll leave you and your cheesecake in peace. So Trent! What're we playing tonight?"

The young chef pulled out a dog-eared pack of playing cards and began shuffling, winking at Sam who continued to eye his brother with suspicion. "How 'bout poker? Jim and the others'll be along soon." Sam was the newest member of the Saturday night club, since he could now actually speak and stay awake for longer periods. The kitchen crew had willingly moved the venue from the restaurant to the younger Winchester's room so he could join in the fun. Sam still tired easily but he was at least comfortable, could take a nap whenever he needed, and Dean just felt happier keeping him close by.

The Saturday games night, along with other various clubs throughout the home, had suspended activity for quite some weeks after the death of Tina and Nora, mainly out of respect but partly because no one was in the mood. But later it was seen as an essential morale boost, a tribute to the women who died, and the middle finger to Meg. On the run up to his death even Darcy had attended a few nights with Kathy at the old guy's side, keeping a close eye on him.

All were determined the enemy wouldn't win, that life would carry on.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

It would be a long while before Sam was well enough to visit Wildheath again but that didn't stop his brother from pulling some ludicrous stunts...

"Hey Sam? Got another visitor."

"Huh?" Sam glanced up from his laptop when Dean poked his head round the door, large innate grin stretching across his face. Sam cleared his throat, smiling back. "Who?" he croaked loudly, throat still rather sore these days.

"Keep your voice down Kermit!" Dean hissed back loudly, flapping a hand at him. "Kathy doesn't know about him so..."

Suddenly the door was pushed open and a large black glistening nose appeared followed by beseeching eyes, long hairy body and an extremely waggy tail.

Any attempts Dean made to keep the visit under wraps went straight out the window when the huge Belgian Shepherd caught sight of Sam and let out a loud joyful "_WWWoooffff!_"

And bounced playfully across the room. Paws the size of dinner plates landed on Sam's comforter as the gentle giant leapt up eagerly, the entire bed shaking from the impact.

Dean studied his brother with amused interest. An honest to God fully grown man giggling like a girl at the fur ball's antics, which included burying his nose in Sam's neck or swiping its tongue over the kid's cheek.

"Ya know Sammy I think Rabble's been fed on steroids?" Dean sat down in his usual spot by Sam's bed, and reached over to scratch the shepherd's ears, who promptly swooned in delight, small growls and snuffles of appreciation filling the room. "It can't be natural for a dog to be that damn huge."

"'His name's Rabble? Huh. Suits 'im." Sam grinned happily. "Anyhow, Newfoundlands are bigger, and then there's Great Dane's." He shrugged.

"Hmm." Dean raised an eyebrow in consideration. "Scooby Doo does come up to Shaggy's waist..." then smirked at Sam, "you two make a great couple!" He started chortling away. "You even look alike."

"Gee thanks." Sam replied sarcastically. "Feel good does it? Making fun of your sick brother? Shame on you."

Rabble gave another deep _woof_ of agreement and appeared to turn his long nose up at Dean, trampled the bed space next to Sam in a large circle several times and flopped down, panting softly, long legs dangling over the edge of the bed.

"Comfortable are we?" An amused voice from the doorway made all three glance over, Sam and Dean somewhat sheepishly and Rabble a little triumphantly. The dog's wide grin suggested that here he was and here he was going to stay, and _just you try getting rid of me!_

Kathy tried her best to look annoyed but it was an impossible task. Sam looked happy and contented with the over-sized ball of fluff lying next to him, chuckling like a little boy, his eyes gleaming as he stroked the dog's soft coat. Dean just looked happy that Sam was happy, like that was all he cared about in the entire world.

_Probably is!_ Kathy thought with amusement as she pushed away from the doorframe and sauntered on over.

"You really shouldn't be here puppy-face," She announced softly, grabbing the big dog's long muzzle and looking deep into his big soft eyes. "Oh _God!_ Shouldn't have done that. That's it, I'm a gonna." She glared at Sam accusingly. "He's worse than _you!_"

Sam's mouth dropped open in surprise. "What did _I_ do?"

Dean snorted something that sounded like "_puppyeyes" _under his breath, earning a glare from his younger brother.

"Boys you better hide that damn dog before the doc..." Bobby skidded to a halt just inside the door, his mouth slamming shut. "Uh..._ahem_." He touched the peak of his cap to Kathy, face a little red and guilty looking. "M'am." He said slowly and respectfully, feet shifting nervously.

"Might've known there was an accomplice." Kathy muttered, trying her hardest to keep a straight face. "I suppose he can stay, _provided_'" she held out a finger pointing it at the shepherd, who merely took that as an invitation to lavish large kisses all over her hand with his huge tongue, "he behaves himself, no running round the place, barking loudly and annoying the other residents...._stop that!_" And promptly let out a squealed giggle when the dog got to its feet on Sam's bed and started washing her face.

"Pfffttt!" Sam spat out dog hairs when a tail like a giant feather duster smothered his face as Rabble turned round again, "plf cn u gt ou ma fce..."

Dean smirked and leaned forward, hand cupped to his ear. "What? Didn't catch that."

Finally batting the dog's tail away, Sam glared at him. "I _said_...Never mind!" Then grinned when Rabble shifted again and Dean was subjected to the same torment.

"Hey lads!" Trent shuffled into the room, pulling a heavily laden food trolley with him. "You ready for lunch? Roast lamb in mint and ros...aghhhh!" he screamed out and found himself on his back gazing up into a hairy face with a long nose; he wondered why everyone was laughing instead of helping when he was being attacked by a monster. "Er..." Its mouth opened to reveal a set of sharp fangs "Guys?" a huge tongue descended "a little help here?" and swiped a wet, drooling trail up the side of his face. "Eeewwww!"

"I think Rabble smelt the food and got a bit over excited..." Sam began, but Rabble, clearly dissatisfied with licking the human to death showed some mercy, and began pulling at the cloth on the trolley, teeth clamped down and tossing his head from side to side, whilst Trent just lay there staring at the huge hungry dog, too petrified to move. Dean couldn't stop laughing and just sat back in his chair, snorting along with his brother; and Kathy and Bobby were making a move to intercept and save the food when the unthinkable happened.

Rabble finally got his way with one final tug, metal clanged and rattled as the roasting dish complete with lid overturned and the roasted leg of lamb didn't even have time to hit the floor. The dog caught it artfully in his teeth, adjusted to get a firm grip and trotted from the room with the Aussie chef chasing after him, threatening all kinds of retribution if he didn't _drop it_ _now!_

"Trent!" Kathy yelled out as she darted after him, dragging Bobby with her. "Don't let 'im out for God sake, _it'll be_ _havoc out there!_"

Suddenly Dean wasn't laughing, brows pulled down into a furious scowl. "That damn dog just made off with our lunch!" his stomach gave a loud grumble in protest "_sonfoabitch!_"

Sam shook his head, still laughing his ass off. "I'm sure there's plenty left Dean."

"Not the point," his brother mumbled irritably. "Wasting good food on a mutt..."

"A mutt that saved my life Dean." Sam made his _meaningful _face.

"Yeah..." Dean sighed and nodded slowly. "Guess I can live with that."

The brother's smiled at each other just as Rabble bounded back on by the doorway, grinning happily around his ill gotten prize with Trent following on waving his arms and swearing, Bobby and Kathy in hot pursuit. By this time several of the more mobile residents had joined in the fun and appeared to be enjoying themselves for the first time in years. It was like watching a Benny Hill sketch minus the scantily clad women as dog and humans raced back and forth, and the boys just caught glimpses through the open door.

The brother's could still hear angry shouts and loud joyful barks as the chase finally continued along the hall, into the next wing and out into the gardens.

"Well there's always potatoes," Sam commented hopefully, hungry eyes fixed on the trolley. "Roast _and_ mash knowing Trent."

_Distantly, through the open window, they heard Kathy yell out "No...not the bloody rose garden!" She was answered by a deep"woof woof woof_" _and it sounded like the dog was laughing at her..._

Dean appeared to consider that. "Yeah," he moved across the room to peer under the next cloth. There was another large roasting dish under a metal lid. "Hey! We got some warm beef here." He sniffed. "Smells like honey and mustard; he was trying that out last week."

"_You little bastard when I get hold of you I'll turn you into hot dogs!" Trent, tenacious chef that he was, still hadn't given up trying to retrieve the leg of lamb. Nearby could be heard pounding feet and Bobby Singer grumbling, wondering how in hell he got dragged into this in the first place..._

"Sounds like they're having fun out there huh?" Sam muttered round a mouthful of green beans and Dean generously poured some gravy on to his brother's mash potatoes.

"Yep and getting some exercise," Dean grinned, sat back to enjoy their feast and grabbed the TV remote, "Ah! Diagnosis Murder....a classic!"

"Hey I know this one!" Sam replied enthusiastically, "This is the one where..."

"Don't tell me!"Dean scowled. "I aint seen it yet bitch!"

_More pounding feet and "oh no! Don't you dare!"_

Sam frowned and glanced out the window but couldn't see what was happening. "What's going on out there?"

Dean shrugged, totally engrossed in his food and Dick Van Dyke. "Who cares? Eat up Sammy before it gets cold."

Sam smiled...

_It sounded like a standoff._

"_Rabble? Good doggy, that's it..." Kathy was using her reasonable voice, mistakenly thinking it would work on a two hundred pound canine with a mischievous streak a mile wide. "That's it...there's a good dog...nononondon'tyoudaredigholesinmygarden..."_

_Woof, woof __**woof**__!!!_

The boys grinned at each other.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Weeks seemed to swim by. Bobby had been disappearing off for days at a time and the boys wondered if he was hunting, but it soon became apparent what he'd been up to when he turned up on their last day in his tow truck, the Impala restored to its former glory secured on the back.

Dean had shamelessly blubbed his gratitude and Sam smirked when his brother damn near made out with the car, breathing in the scent of fresh paint and leather upholstery like a glue sniffer.

"Dude," and Sam shook just his head laughing, not knowing what else to say.

It was time to leave and the brothers felt completely ambivalent about it. This place had become a home to them both, but they had work to do.

There were the inevitable sad goodbyes from Trent and his staff, the nurses and retired hunters, and Dean expected that. But what really got to him, was Sam.

He'd found him by the memorial stone in the garden, now with Andrew Darcy's name carved below the others. Something told him the list wouldn't end there.

There would be more names joining them soon.

"The nature of war." Sam uttered without turning and Dean was no longer surprised he sensed his presence. "That's what Darcy told me. We don't get to choose when we fight. We just _have_ to fight if we want to survive. Guess Dad had a point huh?"

Dean stayed quiet for a long moment as his brother wept silently and wished like hell for what could never be. Eventually he stepped forward to stand beside Sam.

He couldn't feel guilty for his selfishness; his needs were simple. Sam was alive, strong and healthy. Again.

He was back for good.

"Yeah he had _a _point Sammy," he replied softly, hand on the younger man's shoulders in support. "But he didn't always go the right ways 'bout provin' it."

Sam just nodded and the brothers had stood there together in respectful silence, feeling overwhelmed at all they'd learned during their stay.

But one important fact rose above all others:

They weren't alone in this and, as it turned out, never had been.

Sixty years had proved that.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"You got everything you need?" Doc Grey stared up into Dean's face worriedly. She didn't bother telling him they could always come back. It was a given.

Stretching an arm along her shoulders, pulling her into his chest and pressing an affectionate kiss on the side of her head, Dean softly replied "Yeah."

And that was it.

Bobby cleared his throat. "I've upgraded the protection round here, should last for a while..." his voice trailed off in sadness. "I'm sorry. Just don't know..." he hung his head. It felt like a betrayal to leave them.

But the doc stood brave, strong and determined.

"We've stood for sixty years and we might stand for sixty more, but it's a war in the making. Once it's here there's no stopping it and my grandfather's legacy will fall. This place...the Sanctuary... will no longer be a safe haven." Kathy gazed at them with sudden sadness, "_nowhere_ will be safe for hunters. It's inevitable and we all knew that. _Right from the start_."

Dean watched as his little brother nodded sadly, gratefully enfolding the doc in a big bear hug.

Kathy stepped back, eyes turned to that hard professional gleam for the first time in months. "I won't tell you to look out for each other. You've already done that."

Then she was watching as the newly restored Impala growled to life, and slunk off the premises for the last time, Bobby's truck following on.

_Stay safe...survive._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

Not quite sure I got the quote exactly right from one of Wilbur Smith's novels 'cos I read it a long time ago as a teenager, but I hope it was close.

The ending to this one isn't my usual cheery style but I thought I'd try something different, and I hope the Benny Hill style scene with Rabble made up for it.

Sad to see this end but now I can really get stuck into my other project. Its Top Secret so don't ask!

Many thanks to all who reviewed, anonymous or otherwise. Your support is greatly appreciated and means so much to me.

Kind regards,

ST xxx


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